


Shadows and Shards

by Seraphtrevs



Series: A Light in the Mirror [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Mirror Universe, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphtrevs/pseuds/Seraphtrevs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/284993/chapters/454460">A Light in the Mirror</a>.  </p>
<p>When Mirror!Garak decides to keep Julian as his prisoner, the two make an uneasy arrangement: in exchange for sex, Garak will allow Julian to act as a doctor to the Terrans.  But Garak wants more than Julian's body, and his obsession sends him spiraling towards self-destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is! This monstrous thing is going to run at least seven chapters, making it more of a sequel than just an alternate ending (an alterna-sequel?) Heed the warnings - there's violence! Extremely dubious consent! Tragedy! Death! ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE.
> 
> The fic starts where Chapter Eight of Light in the Mirror leaves off. The first paragraph is the same as Chapter Nine, and it veers off from there.
> 
> This Mirror universe differs slightly in its politics from the one in the show, particularly in Bajor's relationship to the Alliance. It's all explained in the fic and shouldn't be hard to follow.

For lack of a better place to go, Garak went to his office. He locked the door and sat at his desk. He stared into space for a long time, his mind too tumultuous to think clearly. A memory came to him suddenly: when he was eight years old, his mother got a job as a maid for a Cardassian businessman. He'd gone along with her to the man's manor one day with firm instructions to stay out of trouble. He'd meant to be good, but then he saw it: a crystal figurine of an exotic bird. It was exquisitely beautiful, the way its delicate glass wings reflected rainbows of light along the wall; he knew as soon as he saw it that he had to have it. He snatched it and went to put it in his pocket, but his grip was too tight and it shattered in his hand. He'd been too frightened of punishment to show anyone his wounds. By the time his mother discovered the damage, it was quite serious. His hand still bore the scars.

And yet...and yet. He knew he would still grab that figurine, even if he had known the consequences. To have it in his hands for even a moment felt like a victory. It may have been a fleeting feeling, but it was better than never experiencing it at all.

He spent the rest of the day resuming a few of his duties; he'd let all of this interfere too much with his life. Before returning to his quarters, he stopped by the brig to pick up a pair of handcuffs, which he clipped to his belt. When he entered his quarters, he found Julian standing at the door of the bedroom. He had changed from his torn and dirty work clothes into Garak's leisure shirt and trousers. Garak didn't know what to say to him, so he said nothing as he removed his armor and his boots. Once he was more comfortable, he got out his dishes to set the table for dinner. 

“Where were you?” Julian asked eventually. 

“I went to my office,” Garak said. “I still have duties here – duties I've neglected because of you.” Garak went to the replicator. “What would you like to eat?” he asked, trying to sound a little more genial.

“I'm not hungry.”

His combative attitude wasn't surprising. “Now we both know that's a lie,” he said as evenly as he could manage. “I hope you don't think I'll allow you to starve yourself. That would displease me a great deal.”

Julian didn't reply. Garak finished replicating their meal and placed it on the table. He reset Julian's restraint so that he could enter the dining room. Julian obediently took his place at the table without another word of protest. Garak sat down as well. Julian served himself a modest amount of food and ate it quickly, finishing before Garak had barely taken a bite. He excused himself, claiming the need to use the washroom, leaving Garak to finish his meal alone. 

Garak mechanically ate his food, barely tasting any of it. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Julian to light up when he entered the room, the way he had the first time Garak laid eyes on him – the way he must for the other Elim. He wanted kisses in the morning, and long talks over tea, and sighs of pleasure when Garak took him into his arms at night. He wanted Julian's warmth. He wanted his light. 

But that light was gone now, he knew. He finished his meal, disposed of the waste, and went to the bedroom to claim the shadow that remained. 

Julian was sitting on the edge of the bed. Wordlessly, Garak sat down beside him. Julian's shirt had started to slip from his shoulder again, so Garak did what he'd wanted to do that first time he saw it happen – he pushed the fabric down until Julian's shoulder was bare, and kissed it. Julian couldn't suppress a shudder, but he didn't pull away.

Garak moved on to his neck, kissing where the ridge would be if he were Cardassian, then his collar bone, then his throat. Julian did jerk back at that, so Garak put a hand at the base of his skull to hold him still as he kissed his throat again, right where he could see his pulse pounding against his skin. He tried for a kiss on his lips, but Julian kept his mouth firmly shut; short of ordering him to kiss back, Garak knew he wouldn't get what he really wanted, so he moved on.

He snaked a hand up Julian's shirt, running it along his hot skin – so hot he felt like it would burn him. He pulled the shirt up; Julian allowed him to remove it. After running his hands over his skin again and placing a wet kiss in the center of his chest, Garak slid down until he was kneeling in front of him. He picked up one bare foot and pressed it to his lips, then lay a kiss on his ankle below the restraining device – a silent apology. He reset the restraint to the smallest proximity – Julian wouldn't be able to leave the bed until morning. He released his foot and slid his hands up Julian's thighs. By this point, Julian was shaking, clearly holding still only by sheer will. Garak tried to ignore it, but found that he couldn't. The arousal he felt was matched with equal levels of revulsion at himself.

He buried his face in Julian's lap and fought the urge to beg for his forgiveness. After a moment, he pushed himself to his feet. He removed the handcuffs from his belt. “Put these on.” 

Julian's head snapped up in alarm. “What? Why? I told you I wouldn't fight you, and I'm not.”

“Are you refusing me?” he asked coolly.

Julian looked at the handcuffs, then back at Garak's face. Finally, he grabbed them out of Garak's hands. 

“Your right wrist only,” Garak said. Julian complied with unsteady hands. “Lie on your side, facing the bed post.” Julian did as he was told. Garak threaded the cuffs around the post and cuffed his other hand. He kept them as loose as he could while still preventing him from turning over. 

After Julian was secured, Garak stepped out of his line of sight and removed the rest of his clothing before making his way to the washroom. After using the toilet, he climbed into a cold shower. He relieved himself of his desire with a few quick strokes of his hand. He took his time drying off and putting on his night clothes. When he was ready, he climbed into bed and spooned up behind Julian, holding him in his arms. 

Garak was exhausted enough that he almost immediately began to fall asleep, in spite of the tension of the situation. He was just about to drift off when Julian spoke. “If you're done with me, will you remove the handcuffs?”

“No,” Garak said.

“Why? I'm still wearing the ankle restraint. I can't leave.”

“Yes, but you could still strangle me in my sleep.”

“And then I'd have to spend the rest of the night in bed with your corpse until the Intendant finds me in the morning and has me executed. Why would I do that?”

“You've proven yourself to be very resourceful. I can't help but worry that you might find your way around the ankle restraint.”

“I've tried - I can't.”

“You're still wearing the cuffs, all the same,” Garak said. He kissed the back of his neck. “You see, my dear, I simply don't trust you.”

Julian didn't have a response to that. 

* * * 

_He was walking down a dark tunnel. The cool, gray walls seemed familiar somehow, although he couldn't quite place it. The tunnel was pulsing, and somehow he knew it was about to collapse. He quickened his pace. He needed to escape._

_The tunnel divided. On the left there was a welcoming path bathed in warm, gentle light. The right path was blocked by some sort of wall. He started down the left path, but then he heard a voice coming from behind the wall on the right. It was Julian. He didn't sound distressed; in fact, he was talking and laughing with someone._

_The tunnel pulsed harder. He knew he should leave. But he couldn't – he had to get to Julian. He felt the wall. It was tough, but also strangely pliant – almost like skin. He removed a knife from his belt and stabbed into it. A thin, screaming noise echoed through the tunnel, and a thick spray of liquid hit him in the face. He wiped it away – his hand was now slick and black. He stabbed at the wall again. This time, red liquid poured forth. The liquid continued to spray him until he was covered in it, but he did not let it deter him._

_As he cut away, Julian's voice lost its joviality. He sounded concerned, then outright panicked. Finally, Garak cut a hole wide enough to squeeze through. Julian was kneeling on the ground beside a prostrate body. Garak looked over Julian's shoulder to see who it was, and was surprised to see his own face._

_Julian turned to him. His face was wet with tears. Just then, a hole opened up in the ground. The man who looked like him slipped through first. Julian began to slip through it as well. Garak reached out to catch him, but his hand was too slick to hold on, and Julian tumbled down the pit. Garak leaped in after him. It was terrifying at first – a total free-fall into darkness. His stomach dropped, his heart pounded in his chest. But gradually, it seemed less terrifying and more thrilling. He'd never felt so alive._

_He managed to catch Julian in his arms. Julian was thrashing out, but Garak held him so firmly that soon he stilled. The feeling of Julian against his body aroused him. He caught his mouth in a kiss. Their fall gradually slowed, as if they'd been plunged into water. There was no air – they couldn't breathe – but still Garak held him, kissed him, clung to him..._

_And then they landed._

* * * 

The next morning, Garak awoke with a strange sense of clarity. He was no happier, but at least he felt on steady feet. A dream lingered in his mind, although he couldn't remember all of it. He felt as if he'd finally finished his fall into despair, and had landed. He also found that a plan had entered his mind; he knew now what he must do.

He rose from the bed and checked on Julian. It looked as if he had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, although his body was still strung with tension. Garak got ready for the day as quietly as he could. After he was clean and dressed, he opened his weapons locker to select what he would need. A small phaser would probably be best – quick and simple. However, he couldn't help but pick out two of his favorite knives, in case he had the opportunity to be fancy. He selected a phaser as well, then holstered all of them. 

He ate a small breakfast, then made a plate for Julian and reentered the bedroom. He woke Julian with a brush of his fingers to his cheek, enjoying the lack of hostility in Julian's sleepy face before he remembered where he was. He undid his handcuffs and reset the proximity on the restraint for a long enough distance that Julian could reach the washroom. 

“I have to take care of something,” Garak said. “But I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll send someone to check on you if I'm gone too long.”

“Take care of what?”

Garak ignored his question. After putting the cuffs in the bureau, he left his quarters. As he walked down the halls to his office, he tapped his comm badge and asked the computer if Sisko was still aboard the station. He was – of course he was. He had been far too eager to leave yesterday; the Intendant would not let that go unpunished. He was pleased; his plan hinged upon Sisko being present. 

The computer told him that Sisko was in the docks, which meant the Intendant had not summoned him yet. That gave him time to go to his office, where he tapped out a few commands at his console. He was by no means an expert on the workings of the station's computer systems, but he was adept enough to know just how a clever Terran might temporarily sabotage certain functions. 

With that finished, he stopped by Ops, where Dukat was on duty. The poor bastard looked exhausted, seeing as he was still filling in for Garak as well as fulfilling his own duties. Garal talked with him briefly; his face lit up when Garak told him he would fully resume his post the next day. After that, he made his way to the docks, found a shadowed corner, and waited. 

Strangely, he didn't feel nervous. This wasn't the first time he'd formulated a bold plan, but he'd never had the nerve to truly follow it through. He was a Gul – a position he had fought his whole life to achieve. He was a torturer – a good one, at that. And yet, beneath all of that, he was timid. Weak. Cowardly, even. He knew how to fight, but he only ever picked battles he knew he would win. He never took real risks. That ended today.

It was not long before Sisko was summoned. He waited until Sisko had disappeared down the hallway before following him. When he'd been inside the Intendant's quarters for about ten minutes, Garak rang the door chime.

Sisko answered, his face expressionless. Before he could say anything, the Intendant's voice sounded from within the room. “Who is it?” she said in a sing-song voice. 

“It's Gul Garak,” Sisko said.

“Oh, goody! Tell him to come in.”

Wordlessly, Sisko stepped aside. Garak followed him to where the Intendant lay sprawled out on a sofa. Major Kira was kneeling on the ground a short distance away; her hands were cuffed. Garak hadn't been expecting that, but it wouldn't upset his plans. There were no servants present.

“Elim!” the Intendant said with a wide smile on her face. “I was going to call you, but I figured you might be busy with your Julian. Have you finished punishing him already, or are you taking a break?”

“I don't like to consider it 'punishment,'” Garak said. “More like...reconditioning.” He smiled as he said it. It was easy for him to slip into the roll; it was one he'd played for years. 

The Intendant laughed. “Oh, of course. That's an excellent way to put it.” She gestured towards the Major. “I've decided that my Nierys could use a little 'reconditioning' herself. I was going to have Benjamin do it, but since you're here...” She paused, and smiled wider. “Oh, I just had a delightful thought! You and Benjamin can have a contest. Whoever makes her beg first wins!”

“What an excellent suggestion,” Garak said. “If you would permit me to go first?”

“But of course! I don't think Benjamin here is very enthusiastic, but perhaps he'll get into the spirit of things.”

Garak walked over to the Major, whose face was directed downward. Her breath had quickened, but other than that, she betrayed nothing. Perhaps she had been in this position before. Garak put a hand under her chin and tilted her face upward. Garak did his best to convey a message: _Wait_. Her gaze went from burning anger to one of confusion.

Garak turned back to the Intendant. “As chance would have it, I currently have in my possession my two favorite knives.” He unsheathed them and set them on the low table in front of the Intendant. “Perhaps you would like to select which one I should start with.”

“All right,” she said, clearly enjoying herself. “Why don't you tell me a little about them?”

Garak gestured to the one on the left. “This one is new. It's made of Andorian steel. Rather pretty, isn't it? I use it when I want to inflict the maximum amount of damage as efficiently as possible. It's very, very sharp – I could slit your throat with it and you wouldn't feel a thing.”

“Well that doesn't sound like any fun,” she said. “What about the other one?”

“Ah yes,” Garak said, picking up the knife on the right. “She's been with me a long time.”

“It's a she?” the Intendant said. “How charming! Although I have to say, she isn't much to look at.”

“Appearances can be deceptive. I had just purchased her when I began my duties at this station. She has grown a bit dull, it's true, but she's inflicted a lot of pain on a lot of people. When I want to make things last, she is the one that I turn to.”

“I pick her, then.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” Garak picked up the second knife. He moved behind the Intendant and addressed Sisko. “Benjamin, undo our prisoner's cuffs, if you please.”

Their gazes met. He could tell Sisko knew what was coming. For a moment, Garak was worried that Sisko would betray him, in spite of how much he insisted that he hated her. “I don't have the key,” Sisko said eventually, without taking his eyes off of Garak. 

“I have it here,” the Intendant said. As she was reaching into the pocket of her robe, Garak grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. He didn't so much slit her throat as saw it open. Then Intendant couldn't cry out, of course, but the Major did as the spray of blood hit her. The Intendant put a hand to her neck and surged forward, crashing over the low table in front of her. Sisko let out a roar and grabbed the Major in his arms, lifting her out of the Intendant's reach. Remarkably, the Intendant rose unsteadily to her feet again, reaching out to Sisko. But Sisko backed away, still holding the Major in his arms. He turned around to shield her from the sight.

Garak dropped the knife and whipped out his phaser, training it on Sisko. The Intendant had collapsed on her side on the floor, her last burst of energy finally spent. When she was completely still, Sisko turned back around. He raised his hands when he saw Garak's weapon. He was breathing heavily, sucking air through his clenched teeth. 

“I'll give you a good head start,” Garak said, panting a little himself. 

The Major had turned around as well; she was shaking. “You're letting us go?” she managed to choke out. “Why?”

“Someone has to take the blame,” Sisko said. He bared his teeth at Garak. “Isn't that right?”

“You have it precisely.” He gestured to the Intendant's body. “The key is in her pocket,” he reminded him.

Sisko crouched down slowly. He did not immediately reach for the key; instead, he touched the Intendant's face with strange tenderness, then shut her eyes. “It should not have happened like this,” he said quietly. He removed the key and returned to the Major. It only took a moment to free her.

“You have fifteen minutes before I sound the alarm,” Garak said. “I think you'll find you don't have time to fetch Julian. He has a restraint on that would prevent you from removing him from my quarters anyway.”

The Major snarled and made a step toward him, but Sisko held her back. He said something lowly in her ear; Garak couldn't make out what it was.

Garak gestured towards the door with his phaser. “Do try to escape in one piece – it will provide me with some much needed distraction.”

“We'll do our best.” He took the still shaking Major by the hand – Garak had thought her less fragile than this, but he supposed seeing your mirror image violently murdered would shake anyone up. What was more surprising was Sisko's gentle treatment of her – very interesting, but not really his concern anymore.

“Until we meet again,” Sisko said, and then they were gone.

That was a troubling parting sentiment, but Garak wasn't about to let it ruin his victory. He cleaned off his bloody knife and collected the unused one, holstering both afterward. He had managed to keep most of the blood off of himself, but he still washed his hands in the washroom. He tried to think of any other tracks he might need to cover. He looked thoughtfully down at the Intendant's body. Her eyes, he thought – Sisko had closed them. That might seem unusual. He crouched down beside her, avoiding as much of the blood as possible. After prying her eyes open, he studied her face for a moment. Sisko was right – it shouldn't have happened like this. It was over far too quickly.

After ten minutes had passed, the Intendant's comm badge started to beep. When there was no answer, Garak's own went off. He tapped it. “Yes?”

“Sir!” Dukat's panicked voice answered. “Sisko was spotted a few minutes ago fleeing for the docks with the Intendant's double – they were covered in blood!”

“I hope you didn't wait to contact me to order a pursuit!” Garak said, doing his best to sound surprised. 

“Yes, of course I did! But he made it to his ship, and they're leaving – I'm trying to stop them, but something's wrong with the docking controls – ”

“Something's wrong, or are you fumbling them?”

“No, sir, I swear – I think someone's tampered with – ” Dukat cut off for a moment, then swore. “They've made it out!”

“Then put a tractor beam on their vessel, you idiot!”

“We're trying! There's something wrong with that, too!” Dukat was panting. “And sir, there's something else – I've tried hailing the Intendant, but she's not responding.”

“I'm passing her quarters right now,” Garak said. “I'll check on her.” 

He sat down on one of the Intendant's opulent chairs and waited a few minutes. Her body rested on a very pretty Bajoran rug – he wondered if he could get the blood stains out.

He hailed Dukat. “She's dead!” he said in a very good approximation of shock. “Forget the tracor beam – destroy Sisko's vessel at once!”

“They're gone.” 

“What?! You incompetent fool! How could you let this happen?”

“I don't know.” Dukat sounded so miserable that Garak almost felt bad. 

“I'm on my way to Ops. Try not to let any other murderers escape before I get there.”

Garak made a very good show of being angry. He railed against Dukat's incompetence. He unleashed his fury at the security team for letting Sisko board his ship in the first place. He hauled Quark out and had him executed, for no particular reason other than the situation seemed to call for _someone_ to be executed, and he needed to get rid of him anyway.

When he had everyone scrambling, he went to his office – ostensibly to start making the proper calls to the Bajoran government and his own superiors. As soon as the door was shut, however, he nearly collapsed; he felt so giddy that it was making him dizzy. He leaned against the wall to keep himself upright, but eventually slid to the floor. He rested his head on his knees and started to laugh – quietly at first, but soon the volume grew. He bit down on his fist to muffle the sound. He'd taken the universe by the throat and demanded satisfaction, and it had relented. He had won.

And Julian was safe in his quarters, his last hope for escape gone. Garak removed the key to Julian's restraint from his pocket, relishing the cool, solid feel of it against his skin. Safe, yes, and _his_ – his forever. 

Taking a deep breath, he rose from the floor. First, he summoned one the Intendant's Vulcan servants and ordered him to tend to Julian's needs, since he had a long day ahead of him. When that was taken care of, he began making the necessary calls. All went as expected. The Bajorans would send an investigative team to look into her death. They would also need to appoint a new Intendant, but it would be some time before that could happen. They asked Garak to run the station in the meantime; he accepted. 

His own superiors were pleased with the way things had turned out, even if Garak didn't let them know he was the author of her death. They had been hoping for some time to get control of the station, and they advised Garak to keep the Bajorans out for as long as possible. Garak told them that that wouldn't be a problem.

And then there was the grisly business of cleaning up the Intendant's body. He had images of the scene taken for the sake of the Bajoran investigative team arriving the next day, but was deliberately sloppy about it. Not that he imagined anyone would think too closely about what had happened – a Terran with a clear motive had been seen fleeing the crime scene, covered in blood. No one would doubt that. Annoyingly, however, Odo had appeared and was sniffing around. He had been devoted to the Intendant, and he and Odo didn't exactly have a harmonious relationship. Garak decided not to worry too much about it – Odo was a scientific curiosity and a useful tool, but not someone anyone would take seriously. 

At long last, he was able to return to his quarters. Julian was standing at the bedroom door; he tried to move forward when Garak entered, but was stopped short by the restraint. 

“What's happened?” he asked. “I heard an alarm, but that was hours ago, and the Vulcan you sent wouldn't tell me anything.”

Garak didn't answer him. Julian seemed different, somehow, but Garak quickly realized that it was he himself who had changed, and now he was seeing Julian through different eyes. From the moment Julian had first kissed him, Garak had felt helpless in his desire. He remembered his pitiful pleading the night they went to bed together, and his desperate scrambling to manipulate Julian into being his. It seemed so pathetic to him now.

Garak brushed past Julian. He took off his armor before finally responding to his question. “The Intendant is dead.”

“Dead? How?”

Garak opened his weapons locker and hung up the knife he'd used. “Sisko slit her throat.” There was a spot of blood that he had missed on the handle. He rubbed it off with his finger.

Julian saw that, and swallowed. “Sisko did,” he said, his voice flat. It wasn't really a question.

“Oh yes,” Garak said. “Right after she ordered him to torture Major Kira. I suppose he had enough of following her orders. He could have killed the Major as well, but he spared her. That was very merciful of him, don't you think?”

Julian didn't respond, so Garak pressed on. “Or perhaps it was more than mercy, since he took her with him when he escaped. They're light years away by now. With both the Alliance and the Bajorans after them, I doubt they'll risk coming back here.”

Julian sank to the bed. Garak finished putting his weapons away. He decided to leave Julian alone for the moment and went to take a shower. Julian was still sitting on the bed in the same position when Garak emerged from the washroom, completely naked. Julian looked at him briefly, but his gaze quickly skittered away.

“What happens now?” Julian asked in a small voice.

Garak removed some night clothes from his bureau and put them on. “The Bajorans are sending a team of investigators tomorrow. They will determine that things happened exactly as I've said. Search ships will be sent out, but Sisko is very clever. I doubt we will find him.

“I have been asked to run the station while a new Intendant is selected. The position of Intendant is appointed by the Bajoran government – her main duty was to oversee the Bajoran's interests in this sector, but as it was convenient for her to perform her job on this station, she was given the additional duty of running the ore processing facility. However, once light is shed on all of her various illegal schemes, it might be determined that a future Intendant should be stationed a little closer to home, as to be subjected to more oversight. 

“In the meantime, the Alliance will be making its own plans. Bajor is technically our ally, but not an official member of the Alliance. They've been charging us a little too much for use of their resources, and our Regent would like nothing more than to bring Bajor fully under Alliance control. Now that I have secured this station, we can use it as a base to stage an invasion. It should be over quickly – they will be taken completely by surprise.”

Garak retrieved the handcuffs from the bureau. He sat down beside Julian. “You don't need to worry about them coming after you. With all of the excitement, a rogue visitor from an alternate dimension will be of low priority. I will keep you safe.” He fastened the cuff to Julian's right hand, then turned him on his side. “Quite safe,” he said as his threaded the cuffs around the bed post and secured his other hand. 

As he put his arms around Julian, Julian began to shake. “You don't have to be frightened of me,” Garak said. “I won't hurt you.”

Julian was silent for a moment. “These cuffs are hurting my hands.”

After a moment of consideration, Garak got up and retrieved the key to the handcuffs. He got back into bed, leaned over Julian, and undid his right wrist. Although Garak had selected cuffs padded with leather, there was still a red mark encircling his wrist. He chided himself for not noticing. He undid Julian's other hand as well, but only to readjust the cuff so that it wasn't as tight. He put the cuff back on Julian's left wrist, and attached the empty right cuff to the bed post. Julian was still restrained, but now his movements were less restricted. “Is that better?”

Julian rolled onto his back and looked up at Garak, who was still leaning over him. “What do you want from me?”

 _Everything_ , he almost said. For a moment, he considered taking him just like this. His hand even migrated to Julian's free hand, his fingers snaking between Julian's, who did not pull away. His exquisite eyes were wide with fear.

No, he decided. Having him like this was not what he truly wanted, and he was done compromising his desires. “I want you to say yes,” Garak said, releasing Julian's hand.

“And if I don't, you'll have someone killed.”

“No.”

Julian relaxed slightly. “But you will if I try to escape.”

Garak said nothing; he didn't have to. 

“What are the consequences if I say no?”

“There are none. As I told you, now that I'm in charge, I can make things better for the Terrans. No more torture, no more abuse. I will do these things regardless of whether or not you accept me. However, I feel I must point out that I won't be able to trust you if you continue to reject me. Your life will be much better if you make some effort to be...amicable.” 

He let Julian absorb that information before continuing. “Will you kiss me good night?”

“No,” Julian said with surprising fierceness. 

His brave, defiant Julian was still in there, after all. That pleased Garak. He smiled. “Then I suppose I'll just say it. Good night, my Julian.” He turned on his side away from him and made himself comfortable. He did not need him in his arms tonight. There would be time for that later.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bajoran investigative team arrived the next day, as they had said they would. Thankfully, they didn't seem interested in contesting Garak's version of events; they barely even looked at the images Garak had taken. What they _were_ interested in was access to her records. They were tight-lipped as to what they were looking for, but Garak later learned that she had many enemies in the Bajoran government. She'd been under suspicion of illegal activities for years but always managed to keep one step ahead of her would-be prosecutors. She'd gone too far for even the notoriously corrupt Bajoran government. Taking bribes here or there was one thing; heavy involvement in crime syndicates on several planets was quite another. 

The investigators also expressed a passing interest in the visitors from the alternate dimension, but Major Kira was the one they wanted, and she was gone. Garak said he would take care of the other one; they didn't ask what he meant, and he didn't volunteer any information. They wrapped up their business within a day; Garak saw Odo trying to talk to them, but as he expected, they didn't seem interested in what he had to say. They were glad she was dead, and there was a perfectly good explanation as to how it happened which had the added bonus of not causing damage to their relationship with the Alliance. Why would they want to dispel that? 

Telok and the Klingons also seemed to willing to go along with Garak's assumption of power, since the Regent was so pleased with the turn of events. Telok surely suspected his involvement with the Intendant's death, but ever since his little tirade about Julian, Garak had cut him out of his plans. The Cardassians, of course, were thrilled to have their man in charge – no one more so than Dukat, who was anxious to make up for his blunder.

As far as Garak could tell, the majority of the Bajorans seemed neutral to him being in control. Most of them had little to do with the slaves in the processing center; they worked further up the chain in sales or analysis. Garak's rise to power didn't concern them, especially since they all viewed his position as temporary. 

The Bajoran overseers were an exception. They were a vicious bunch, which was normally fine with Garak, but their loyalty to the Intendant and the suspicious circumstances of her death made them less than cooperative with his new rule. They became even less agreeable when Garak informed them of the changes he planned to make. The Terrans were to be treated more gently. Garak explained that they were losing too many slaves to either death or desertion. Every time they needed to replace a Terran, the new slave had to be trained, which was an inefficient way of running things. It was an explanation allowed Garak to keep his word to Julian without looking as if he were catering to him. Odo took the new guidelines especially hard, complaining loudly that he would be unable to keep order if he was not allowed to properly discipline the slaves. He was a problem that Garak was going to have to deal with eventually. 

In spite of those minor obstacles, Garak was having more success than he'd ever dreamed of. He soon moved himself and Julian into the Intendant's quarters. Garak was hit with another stroke of luck on the second day of their residence in their new home. Garak was rifling through the Intendant's extensive collection of exotic wines and spirits when he happened upon a strange red bottle hidden in the back. When he tried to pick it up, he heard a distinct clicking sound coming from a panel in the wall. In that panel was hidden a small fortune in pure gold-pressed latinum. It was the most money he'd ever seen in one place. He could scarcely believe it – could his luck really have turned so quickly? Would nothing be denied to him now? 

Which was why he was willing to remain patient with Julian. It seemed as if there were no way that the universe would deny him what he wanted – after all, hadn't everything else fallen into place? Julian had gone silent, speaking only when Garak asked a direct question, and even then not very much. He seemed unmoved by the splendor of his new home – the beautiful furniture; the elegant decorations; the spa and the bar and the private kitchen, and lastly, the bed big enough to hold five (and, knowing the Intendant's tastes, probably had at some point). He wasn't even impressed by the latinum – he said something about Terran society being above using money anymore, but surely that couldn't be true. 

Garak knew it would take some time for Julian to come around. He made steps to show Julian that he could be reasonable. He dispensed with the handcuffs and adjusted his ankle restraint to have full run of the apartment. He made more no more demands on Julian for the time being, instead giving him space to consider it on his own. He would see how little Garak was asking of him, and how much he stood to gain. As Garak saw it, this was how things would happen: Julian would eventually realize that, all things considered, his new life was not that terrible. Garak would be kind and patient, and slowly, Julian would melt. It would start with conversation – Garak would tell Julian about all of the positive things he'd done for the Terrans. He would probably ask to see what Garak was doing, and he would be impressed when Garak showed him. Perhaps then, when Garak put a hand on his back, or kissed his cheek, he would not jerk away. And then they would get to know one another, talking as he imagined Julian talked with the other Elim (although not anymore, he thought smugly – not ever again). And then one day, Garak would kiss him, and Julian wouldn't resist – he'd fall into his arms, and then they would go to bed, and then – 

– and then by that point in his fantasy, he would usually climax, stroking himself in the shower while the real Julian sat sullenly in the living room, staring at nothing, lost deep inside himself where Garak couldn't reach. But it would change. It would have to. 

And so it did, the very next week, although it wasn't at all how Garak envisioned. Garak was sitting on the sofa, going through some reports. Julian entered the room, fresh from the shower, and went straight to the bar. He selected a bottle of potent wine and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one gulp, then poured another, and another. When he was finished, he approached Garak and stood in front of him for a moment, as if gathering up his nerve. He took the padd out of Garak's hands and set it aside before straddling Garak's lap.

“I want out of this restraint,” he said. 

Garak found himself unable to speak for a moment. Julian was on his knees, still not making direct contact, but Garak could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Do you, now,” he finally managed to say.

Julian nodded. “And I want out of these quarters.” Julian guided Garak's hands to his hips. “I think you want things, too.” 

A deal. He was offering him a deal. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen, but the blood was rushing out of his head and suddenly all he could think about was Julian's ass hovering mere inches from his now straining erection. “I would be more than happy to take you out in the evenings – ”

Julian shook his head. “No. I want to come and go as I please. And I want to act as a doctor to the Terrans.”

That request took Garak aback. “That is completely out of the question,” he said when he recovered from his surprise. 

“And in return,” Julian continued as if Garak hadn't said anything. “I will say yes to whatever you ask of me.”

Garak knew he should refuse. He wanted Julian's love; this would reduce their relationship to nothing more than a business transaction. Best to be patient, as he had planned, and bring Julian around to wanting to say yes. But then again – how long would that be? Weeks? Months? Could he spend every day with Julian so close without breaking down and taking him by force? This wasn't the yes he wanted – but it _was_ a yes, nonetheless. 

Julian ran a hand down Garak's right ridge. He couldn't suppress a moan. The decision had already been made; it was senseless to deny it. “If I agreed to this, I don't want you just to lie there when we're – ” He broke off with a moan when Julian switched his attention to his left side. “I want your participation,” he finally finished. 

Julian pressed his lips to Garak's ear. “You'll have it.”

Garak wet his lips. “You will work under our Bajoran medic's direct supervision,” he continued. “And you spend your evenings with me. And you wear the restraint at night.”

Julian moved Garak's hands from his hips to his ass. “No restraint,” he said, his lips still close to Garak's ear. He flicked his tongue over Garak's ear lobe, making Garak gasp with surprising surge of arousal. He hadn't even known that his ears were that sensitive. 

“All right, fine,” he panted. “Fine, no restraint.”

Julian pulled back and gave him a heavy-lidded look. “So – is there something you want to ask me?”

Garak tried to pull Julian down onto his lap, but Julian pushed his hands away. He was going to make him ask. “Will you come to bed with me?” Garak finally gasped. 

“Yes.”

“Will you let me fuck you?” He felt a sharp stab of desire just from voicing it.

“Yes,” Julian said, and then finally – _finally_ – lowered himself into Garak's lap. Garak let out a desperate sound he hadn't known he was capable of making. He thrust upward; Julian matched his movement with a roll of his hips. Their mouths crashed together; Julian tasted like the wine, sweet and a little sour. Garak realized this would be over all too quickly if he let this continue, so he pushed Julian off of him. “Bed,” was the only thing he was capable of saying.

Julian led the way, staggering a little. He practically fell on the bed. Garak was over him in an instant, kissing him desperately as he fumbled with the fastening of his trousers. Julian slipped out of them easily; his underclothes soon followed. Garak ran his hands over Julian's bare skin as they continued to kiss, hot and wet and open. Garak pulled back long enough to pull off Julian's shirt. At last, he was naked, writhing under him the way Garak had wanted from the moment Julian had kissed him, back when he thought Garak was someone else.

Garak removed his own shirt and threw it aside. He settled between Julian's legs while he lavished attention on his collar bone. When he reached down to unfasten his own trousers, Julian sat up and pulled away. 

“Wait,” he said, his breath coming as hard as Garak's own. He looked a little woozy. “I just – I need a moment.”

Garak needed a moment himself. He sat obediently back and waited. Julian shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When he was more composed, he scooted backward until his back was to the head of the bed. He propped himself up with several pillows, then reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a small bottle. After pouring a little of the liquid into one hand, he shut his eyes again and took one more deep breath. His face relaxed. Slowly, he brought his hand down between his legs and began to stroke himself. It took a few moments for his body to respond, but soon his cock began to swell. He used his other hand to tweak a nipple. A few more strokes and he was fully hard. 

His eyes fluttered open briefly to locate the bottle of lubricant. He slicked two fingers of his other hand, then spread his legs wider, lifting his knees up slightly. He continued to stroke himself as he brought the slick fingers down lower.

Garak watched with rapt attention as Julian slowly penetrated himself. He started with one finger, moving it small circles as he gradually pushed it in deeper. He suddenly breathed in sharply and let out a breathy moan. His cock was now leaking; he sped up his strokes as he pushed another finger inside...

Garak felt so overwhelmed at the sight that he had to shut his eyes. That didn't block out the sounds of Julian's pleasure – the slick sound of his hand moving over his cock, the little sighs that grew louder by the minute... Garak groaned himself; he couldn't wait any longer. He took off his trousers and moved over Julian. 

Julian's eyes shot open. He seemed almost surprised to see Garak there, but recovered quickly. He removed his fingers and picked up the bottle, pressing it into Garak's hand. “Slowly,” he said.

Garak could only nod in response. He uncapped the bottle, his fingers fumbling as he coated himself thoroughly. Julian turned over and raised himself to his knees. Garak dug his nails into his own thigh – the pain blunted his desire enough for him to gain back some control. He moved himself into position and pressed forward. 

There was more resistance than Garak had expected. By some miracle he was able to obey Julian's instruction, pushing in very slowly. It seemed like forever before he was fully sheathed, his body flush with Julian's. He paused to try to catch his breath, moving his hands mindlessly over Julian's thighs, too lost in sensation to do much else. It was Julian who moved first, rocking his hips gently. Even that small motion sent waves of pleasure surging through him. Garak pulled out partially and pushed back in. He did it again, and again, pulling farther back each time until he was thrusting his whole length in and out of Julian's body. 

His thoughts melted under the white-hot intensity of the pleasure coursing through him, the sensations of _tight_ and _wet_ and _hot_ consuming his whole being. He finally came back to himself enough to be aware of Julian's responses. He was leaning forward on his elbows, his forehead resting on the bed, his whole body slick with sweat. He made a noise halfway between a moan and a gasp every time Garak slammed back into him. Julian spread his knees a little wider and shifted his hips, changing the angle of Garak's thrusts. He let out a groan and brought one hand between his legs to stroke himself. 

_I'm doing this to him,_ Garak thought with triumph. He was close to climax, but he held off – he wanted to make Julian come first. He thrust harder, faster – Julian let out a sob, and then his whole body tensed, bearing down on Garak in a way that was impossible to resist. Garak thrust forward one last time. His whole body shuddered with the intensity of his pleasure as he shot pulse after pulse into Julian, until at last he was spent. 

He collapsed on top of Julian, who also fell to the bed with a grunt. Julian carefully extracted himself, wincing a little as Garak slipped out of him. He rolled on his side, away from Garak, but Garak found enough strength to pull him back into his arms. He ran his hand over Julian's stomach, feeling the sticky evidence of his orgasm. He couldn't help but smirk. 

“That wasn't so bad, now was it?” he said.

Julian turned over to face him. “I was pretending you were him.” As Garak absorbed that blow, Julian got out of bed and staggered to the washroom. Moments later, Garak heard him retching. The sound of running water followed.

Garak lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His body still thrummed with the aftermath of his pleasure, but any contentment he'd felt had vanished. He was too worn out to muster up any rage. Instead, he felt almost numb. 

Eventually, Julian stumbled back into the bedroom. He crawled into bed and promptly passed out. It was just as well; Garak had no idea what to say to him. Julian was sprawled out on his stomach – his preferred position for sleep, as Garak was learning. Garak lay a hand on his back and watched it rise and fall with his breath. Carefully, he pulled the blanket up and tucked Julian in. He got out of bed and went to the washroom to take a shower himself. He made the water as hot as he could stand it, but he still didn't feel clean.

* * * * * * 

Dr. Neeltris was a balding Bajoran man of indeterminate age who always looked as if he'd just eaten something sour. Beyond that, Garak didn't know anything about him. He had no idea how he would react to Julian's request. Not that it mattered – he would do what Garak ordered him to do. Still, since the whole point of this was to make Julian amicable enough to keep sleeping with him, he hoped the doctor wouldn't give him too much trouble.

He needn't have worried. The doctor thought it was a splendid idea. “You can have one of the exam rooms in the back,” he told Julian. “They're – ”

“I know my way around,” Julian said, brushing past him.

Once Julian was gone, the doctor turned to Garak. “Thank you – this will help my work load immensely, and the less I have to touch those animals, the better. Although I am surprised – I thought you said you wanted to work on decreasing mortality amongst the Terrans. Is he fully trained?”

“He's a doctor,” Garak said. _And probably a better one than you,_ he mentally added.

“Really? Where did you find a fully trained Terran doctor?” He paused. “Wait – is this the one from the alternate universe?”

“Who he is is no concern of yours. Just make sure he has what he needs. And keep an eye on him – we don't want any more runaways.”

The doctor looked less thrilled at that. “I'm a doctor, not a security guard,” he mumbled.

“I just lessened your workload by two hundred patients,” Garak snapped. “You have the time. And if you're too stupid to observe suspicious behavior, then I don't see why I should keep you employed.”

The doctor scowled, but gave his assent. Satisfied, Garak made his way to the back. He found Julian easily enough. The room he had chosen was small; an examination table dominated most of it. However, it seemed well-equipped, and there was a private washroom in the back. 

Julian was taking stock of the room, looking in drawers and examining the equipment. “It's exactly the same,” he said with wonder. “The equipment, the supplies...they're even kept in the same places. How is that possible?”

“You're satisfied, then.”

“Yes, it should be fine,” he said. “I'll want to do a health assessment of the Terrans. Would it be possible for you to send them to me a few at a time?”

“That can be arranged.” 

“Good,” Julian said. He placed a hand on the exam table, seeming lost in thought. His shirt had slipped forward, scooping low across his neck. Garak knew he'd have to get him clothing that fit eventually, but for now he was enjoying the glimpses of his flesh that it provided. He loved Julian's collar bone, so different from a Cardassian's but somehow all the more erotic – fragile, so easily breakable if Garak wasn't careful. 

Garak felt himself stir. His desire should have been satiated from the previous night's activities, but somehow it had grown. He should leave Julian to his work, he knew. And yet – wasn't this the bargain? Julian had what he wanted; Garak should get what he wanted as well. Instead of leaving, he pressed a button to slide the door shut, and locked it.

Julian looked up at the sound. The expression on his face was one Garak had seen on the faces of many Terrans who found themselves at his mercy. It was a look beyond despair, when they finally resigned themselves to whatever came next. Garak walked over to Julian and gently cupped his face with one hand. When he looked into those exquisite eyes, he was relieved to find a tiny spark still there after all – one that burned with anger, but at least had not gone out.

Garak kissed him as tenderly as he could. It took a moment, but Julian eventually kissed back. Julian slipped a hand between Garak's legs and massaged him through his trousers. He was completely hard almost at once. Garak broke away from the kiss and pulled back the collar of Julian's shirt, exposing him further. He ran his thumb along his collar bone. Julian leaned his head back, baring his throat to him. Garak moaned and kissed it, moving his hands down to clutch Julian's ass.

After a few more minutes of caresses, Julian dropped to his knees. It didn't take long to bring Garak to completion. Garak tried to hold out, but the sight of Julian kneeling in front of him, the expert way he used his tongue, and that collar bone peeking out provocatively from his shirt – it was all too much. The final straw came when Julian flicked his gaze upward, peering at him from under long lashes as his mouth was still wrapped around Garak's cock. Garak convulsed and spent himself, his knees buckling with the force of his orgasm; fortunately, he was leaning against the examination table, which prevented him from falling to the ground.

Julian opened a drawer at the bottom of the table and removed a cloth. He wiped his mouth, discretely ridding himself of the come. He rose from the floor and threw the cloth into a receptacle. Garak didn't quite trust his legs yet, so he watched as Julian put together a case of medical tools and supplies. “What are you doing?” he asked, still panting. 

“I'm going to visit the processing center. I'm sure there are people there who could use my help.” He shut the case and left the room, leaving Garak with his trousers still pooled around his ankles. Once Garak finally caught his breath, he retrieved a cloth from the same drawer Julian had opened. He wiped himself off before putting his trousers back on. 

Dr. Neeltris gave Garak a funny look when he emerged from the room, but Garak ignored him. Who cared what he thought? He set off for his office. On his way, he saw Julian in the processing center, kneeling beside a Terran man as he examined his arm. His gaze flickered up briefly. Garak nodded his head. Julian didn't acknowledge him at all. He turned back to his patient and said something to him. The man responded, and Julian gave him a smile. For a moment, Garak was jealous of that wretched slave; he doubted his Julian would ever smile at him again.


	3. Chapter 3

Another week passed. Things were going rather smoothly as far as the running of the station went.  
Garak sent Dukat to Bajor to buy slaves to replenish their workforce. There were a suspicious number of pretty girls in the crop he selected, but overall he'd done an adequate job. Garak had another stroke of good fortune when several of the most antagonistic Bajoran overseers were indited in the Intendant's crimes. They were recalled to Bajor to await trial; their replacements had no reason to resent Garak and had no bad habits to break. He was very pleased with the way things were falling into place.

The situation with Julian, however, was not going as well. He knew he should stop asking for Julian's favors; perhaps then, after some time, he'd be able to salvage something out of the whole mess. Every day, he swore to himself that he wouldn't touch him. And every day, he would break that promise. Every part of Julian filled him with desire – his fingers, which so gently tended to his patients injuries; his lips, puckered as he blew on a cup of hot tea; the small of his back, exposed as he reached up for a piece of equipment on a high shelf... It would only take one fleeting glance and suddenly he was overwhelmed, helpless in the face of his monstrous desire. He took Julian every chance he could: in his office, in Julian's infirmary, in a deserted corridor, in the turbolift, and of course, in their quarters – on the bed, on the floor, against the dining table, in the shower – anywhere, everywhere, whenever he could. 

Garak knew that everyone else on the station noticed what was going on. No one said anything directly to him, but he occasionally heard whispers about how the strange Terran doctor held Garak in his thrall. He tried to ignore them. He didn't really care what anyone thought, as long as they continued to obey him.

Julian, for his part, did not shirk from his promise; he met Garak's requests with vigor, if not enthusiasm. When he was pleasuring Garak with his hands or his mouth, Julian made it easy for Garak to pretend that he wanted this as well. Julian had found clothes that fit him, much to Garak's disappointment, but he always made sure that his shirts could be unbuttoned or pulled aside to expose his long, lovely neck. He knew exactly how Garak liked to be touched, and he always knew just when to let out a breathy moan, or meet Garak's gaze with a heavy-lidded look, or swirl his tongue, or flick his thumb over the tip of his cock – whatever it took to send Garak over the edge, his orgasm so hard that he was left weak in the knees. 

Intercourse, however, was a problem. There was no getting around how obvious it was that Julian didn't want to be with him. He could sometimes manage an erection, as long as he had a few drinks and was given time to work on himself, but after their first time together, he never came. Even so, Garak didn't stop asking for it. He couldn't – there was nothing compared to being inside Julian, holding his body so close as came. But the moment Garak had his orgasm, he was confronted with how artificial it all was. Julian did not want him – he would _never_ want him. Garak wasn't a fool – he knew that this was what he had agreed to. It still made his heart ache. The more they were together physically, the further Julian seemed from him. He'd lie in bed with his arms wrapped around Julian and still feel utterly alone. 

In order to keep his sorrow at bay, he followed Julian's example of keeping busy. Although he'd have a hard time working as much as Julian did; it seemed to be his mission to make every last Terran the picture of health. When he wasn't conducting health assessments, he worked on developing treatments to better serve the needs of his patients. He synthesized new drugs, worked on nutritional supplements, made design changes to some of the ore-processing equipment to minimize injuries – anything he could think of to save his patients. 

Any spare time he had he spent walking the processing center with his medical kit in hand, attending to the injured Terrans he found. This was not popular with the overseers; Odo especially hated it, complaining loudly and often that it was impacting production and compromising his authority. He was a problem that Garak was going to have to deal with eventually, but he was having trouble thinking of a way to safely get rid of him. 

His hand, however, was soon forced. One afternoon, Dukat came to his office, looking more nervous than usual. “Sir – there's a disturbance in the processing center that might require your intervention,” he said.

“What kind of disturbance?”

“It's Odo. He and Julian are having a...disagreement over his treatment of one of the slaves.”

Garak swore as he rose from his desk and headed for the door. “Take me to them at once.”

Dukat led him to the main floor of the processing center. Julian was standing protectively over a Terran woman, who was lying in a heap on the floor. She seemed barely conscious. Odo was brandishing a whip – he looked as if he were ready to strike. 

“ _Stop!_ ” Garak roared as he and Dukat made their way over to them. “What is the meaning of this?”

“This Terran woman is refusing to work,” Odo said. “And this one is interfering with her punishment!”

“Anna is not refusing to work – she's exhausted!” Julian shot back. “She's not used to this kind of labor.”

She was a rather delicate looking creature – thin and pale, with a mane of red hair that was probably very beautiful when it wasn't in tangles. “One of your new purchases, I presume,” Garak muttered to Dukat. Dukat responded with a helpless shrug.

Garak returned his attention to Odo. “You know the new guidelines. I will not have you damaging her.”

“Oh, so I suppose I should just ask all the Terrans nicely if they feel like working. Or better yet, perhaps I should do the work for them when they refuse!”

“She has worked as hard as she can for the past twelve hours,” Julian said. Just then, the girl moaned. Julian dropped to his knees and lifted her up to a sitting position. She blinked her blue eyes in confusion. Julian said a few soothing words to her as he did a quick overview of her injuries – her arm looked as if it might be broken. He turned his attention back to Odo, his eyes burning with fury. “She's badly injured. She's worked enough for today - you can't ask any more of her.”

“Do you see his insolence?” Odo said to Garak. “He dares to tell me what I can and cannot do!”

“He's a doctor,” Garak said as evenly as he could manage. “He is not giving you orders any more than when a Terran informs you that a piece of equipment is malfunctioning. If he says that she's had enough, you should listen to him. I just purchased forty new slaves – you don't need this one in particular, I'm sure.”

“Forty new slaves who will never be properly trained!” Odo said. “I've worked with Terrans for years – they are naturally lazy creatures. They will not work without the threat of the whip.”

“ _Lazy?_ ” Julian said. “They're working sixteen hours a day on minimal nutrition, and they still get your damned ore processed. And while I'm sure your arm must get awfully tired from all the beatings you administer, these 'lazy Terrans' still do more work in a single day than you do in a month!”

Garak sucked in a breath. The situation had been salvageable up until Julian's outburst. Everyone on the floor was watching them – the Terrans, the overseers, even Telok and his coterie of Klingons. Garak could not let it seem like his authority was being compromised. 

He hit Julian in the face with the back of his hand. The blow was hard enough to send him reeling; he was already on the floor, but he fell backward and to the side, just barely catching himself with his hands. Garak moved to stand directly over him, hoping that he'd have the sense to stay down. Julian looked up at him with wide eyes. He seemed truly shocked that Garak had hit him.

“You do not speak to your superiors in such a way,” Garak said to him. “Apologize to Odo.”

Julian just sat there on the ground for a long moment, holding a hand to his face where Garak had hit him. His lip had started to bleed a little. Garak was worried he would have to hit him again, but finally Julian spoke. “I'm sorry,” he said flatly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

“Say it respectfully,” Garak said.

Julian's jaw clenched. “I'm sorry, sir,” he said. 

“You won't give Odo any more trouble, will you?”

Julian shook his head. Garak turned to Odo. “I think Julian has learned his lesson. I'm sure he will behave from now on.”

He had hoped that would satisfy Odo, but it did not. “Am I to run to you every time I need to discipline a slave, like a child tattling to his father?” he said. “The Intendant would never have stood for this!”

“The Intendant is no longer here,” Garak said. “I am in charge now.”

“Oh yes,” Odo said with a gleam in his beady little eyes. “Yes, you are. That's what you've wanted for years, isn't it? How convenient for you that Sisko killed her, leaving nothing in your way to seize control.”

All eyes were still on them. The only sounds came from the hum of the equipment. Garak felt a brief surge of fury, but then a cold calm settled over him, the way it had the morning he murdered the Intendant. 

“You are nothing more than a usurper,” Odo continued. “They may not want to listen to me, but I know the truth. You are a disgrace! And now you're letting this Terran slut lead you around by your cock – ”

Garak pulled out his phaser and shot him. He exploded; slimy chunks of his body flew in every direction. Garak, Julian, Dukat and the Terran woman caught the worst of it – each of them ended up covered in Odo's oozy remains. The whole floor erupted into chaos, with people screaming and retching and running in every direction. The Terran woman who had started this whole mess was in hysterics. Julian had immediately gone to her side, wiping the goo off of both of them as he attempted to calm her down. 

The new Bajoran overseers were worthless, panicking as much as the Terrans. It was the Klingons who restored order; Garak had to grudgingly admit that Telok might be worth something after all. Dukat was surprisingly useful as well, countering the Klingon's show of force with reassurances that everything was under control. Garak wiped the larger chunks off of his armor and skin as the Terrans were brought back to order. 

When the screaming had stopped and the Terrans were corralled back onto the floor, Garak addressed the room. “Is there anyone else who would like to question my authority?” he said, his voice booming. “Anyone?” He spotted an unsteady Bajoran overseer – one of the few of the ones left over from the Intendant's reign. “You – perhaps you have some concerns about the way I run things?”

“No, sir,” he stammered. 

“How about you?” he said, rounding his attention on another unfortunate Bajoran. “Do you agree with Odo's assessment that I'm being 'led around by my cock?'” 

“No, sir!” 

“I will not be questioned!” Garak shouted to the room at large. “My orders will be obeyed! And anyone who dares to defy me will pay the price!” He addressed one of the overseers. “Get this mess cleaned up,” he snarled. He was gratified to see them all scramble to carry out his command.

By the time Garak turned back to him, Julian had helped the Terran woman to her feet and was starting to lead her away. Garak grabbed him by the arm. “Where do you think you're going?”

“She's wounded,” he said. “I need to treat her.” 

Dukat appeared at their side. “I would be happy to escort Anna to the infirmary,” he said, putting a hand on her uninjured arm. “Dr. Neetris can attend to her, I'm sure.”

Garak nodded his assent. Dukat led Anna off, reassuring her in a gentle voice. Garak hauled Julian away. He kept his arm in a firm grip the entire way back to their quarters and into their washroom. “Clean up,” he said, shoving Julian towards the shower. Julian turned on the water and disrobed, climbing in under the spray. While Julian washed up in the shower, Garak cleaned himself in the sink – while he had removed the larger bits of goo, there was still a slimy residue left over. He changed his outfit and selected another for Julian, which he handed to him when he emerged from the shower. For once, Julian's body did not entice him; his injured face killed Garak's desire. 

When Julian was dressed, he led him to the living room and instructed him to sit on the sofa. He paced the room for a few moments, attempting to calm himself enough so that he wouldn't end up shouting. “Do you realize how precarious our situation is?” he asked in a low voice. “If I am to maintain control of this station, my authority must _never_ be brought into question. Do you think Odo was alone in his opinion that I'm letting you control me? I assure you, he was not. I have done my best to make it look like the changes I've made to the way the Terrans are treated have to do with increased efficiency, but I'm sure people can't help but notice that your presence coincides with my sudden change of heart. How do you think it would look if I were to let you speak so disrespectfully to an overseer? And what, do you think, would happen if I was perceived to be weak? I'd be overthrown, and then what would happen to you if I wasn't here to protect you? You certainly wouldn't get to keep playing savior to the Terrans. Most likely, you'd be made an example of. Do I have to paint you a picture of what that would be like?”

Julian didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on the floor, but he looked as if he was barely keeping his temper in check. Garak put a hand on Julian's chin and lifted his head, examining the damage he'd caused. He'd aimed for the place on his cheekbone where the damage would be the least, but it had still left a nasty bruise. There was a small wound on his lip where his teeth must have torn it. 

Garak sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well, at least Odo is gone. He was making an annoyance of himself. This is going to cause no end of trouble with the Bajorans, though. I'm fairly certain I can bribe my way out of it, but I'm sure they'll make me pay through the nose.”

“May I go now?” Julian asked.

“Yes, fine,” Garak said, waving his hand. As Julian stood, however, Garak approached him. He touched the bruise gently; Julian winced. “I'm sorry I struck you,” Garak said. “It won't happen again.”

“Do you promise?” Julian said bitterly. He left the room.

It took Garak a moment to collect himself. It seemed that in spite of everything that had happened between the two of them, there had still been a small part of Julian that had trusted him. Now even that was gone. 

He wished he could bring Odo back so he could shoot him again.

* * * 

Julian refused to heal the bruise. Garak tried to order him to, but Julian balked. “What are you going to do to me if I don't – hit me again?” he'd said, calling his bluff. The sex, unsurprisingly, took a turn for the worse. Julian still kept his word, but his act was much less convincing. It didn't help that Garak was forced to look at the bruise on his cheek every time they were together, a visceral reminder of the ugliness of that moment. It infuriated Garak – it had been Julian's fault, after all. What right did he have to be angry? 

It would have been wise to leave Julian alone and give them both time to cool off. Instead, Garak increased his demands, pulling Julian aside three or four times a day and demanding intercourse every night. The sex became rougher – Garak found himself grabbing Julian's hair in his fist when he was on his knees in front of him, or thrusting a little too hard when they were in bed together. Garak realized, with shame, that a part of him was doing this to punish Julian, but that knowledge didn't stop him. Perhaps he would have let up if Julian had shown even a hint of being chastened, but instead he grew more defiant. He practically sneered at him every time Garak took him aside; his eyes always burned with anger. 

It came to a head one night two weeks later. They were in bed together, naked. Garak had two fingers inside him, preparing him. Julian was running his hand up and down Garak's ridges as they kissed, his movements mechanical. Julian wasn't aroused, and neither was Garak, although it wasn't from lack of trying. He finally pulled away in frustration. 

“What's wrong?” Julian asked

“What's wrong is that you aren't keeping up your end of the bargain,” he said. “How am I supposed to enjoy myself when you just lie there? I might as well be fucking an android.”

Julian clenched his jaw. “I am doing the best I can,” he said. 

Garak let out a frustrated sigh and rolled onto his back. This wasn't what he wanted. Every orgasm he had left him feeling less satiated than before. He wanted _Julian_ , not some body to fuck. Agreeing to this arrangement was a terrible idea, but he didn't know how to fix it. “Talk to me,” he said.

Julian was silent for a moment. “Do you remember that time last week when you pulled me into the turbo lift? You pulled back my shirt as you pinned me against the wall, kissing my bare neck as you guided my hand to your hard – ”

“That's isn't what I meant,” Garak snapped. 

“Then what do you mean?” Julian shot back with equal irritation. 

What _did_ he mean? “Tell me something about yourself,” Garak said eventually. “How did you decide to be a doctor?”

Before he answered, Julian took a cloth from the beside table and wiped the lubricant off of himself. Garak was still amazed at how unselfconscious he was about his body. “When I was ten years old, my father and I got caught in an ionic storm on Inveria II. We found shelter with an Inverian girl, and while we were waiting out the storm, she became ill. My father went for help as soon as he could, but she died before he returned. I later learned that a common herb that grew in abundance in that area could have saved her. I never wanted something like that to happen to me again, so I started to study medicine. When I was old enough, I made it my career.”

It was a story that made Garak love Julian a little more and like himself even less. “Your father must be very proud of you.”

Julian shrugged. “I suppose so. We don't talk very much anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I'd prefer not to discuss it.”

Garak didn't press him further. “I never knew my father,” he said. “I was the product of rape. My mother was attacked by a soldier passing through her province.”

“I'm so sorry,” Julian said, and seemed to mean it. 

It was Garak's turn to shrug. “What for? I wouldn't exist if he hadn't raped my mother, and I can't imagine having such a brute in my life would have benefited me. It simply is what it is.” 

“It still must have been hard for you to hear. How did you find out?”

“Oh, my mother was fond of reminding me every time she was upset with me,” he said. “She used to say I was the worst thing that ever happened to her.”

Julian looked shocked. “How could she be that cruel to her own son?”

“In her defense, I _was_ a rotten child – always getting into trouble.”

“I don't care how 'rotten' you were,” Julian said. “You were a _child_. You didn't deserve that kind of treatment. And perhaps you would have been better behaved if you had a mother who loved you the way she was supposed to.”

Garak was surprised by the passion in his voice. “She had a hard life,” Garak said. “She could have smothered in my crib – no one would have cared. But she didn't – she raised me in spite of being completely on her own. She kept me fed and safe, which is more than I can say for my peers. Our relationship did improve when I was older and was able to enter the military.”

“How old were you when you joined?”

“Thirteen.”

Julian looked horrified. “But you were still a child! Is that normal on Cardassia to take children so young into military service?”

“No. I lied about my age. All Cardassian citizens are required to serve for at least two years, so I would have had to go eventually anyway. Going sooner meant my mother didn't have to feed me anymore. She didn't ask me to; it was my own idea. And I was able to pay her back for all the years she cared for me; I think she was even proud of me.”

Julian still looked horrified. “I'm sorry that happened to you,” he said. “No one's childhood should be stolen like that.”

Garak sat up so that they were eye to eye. “You really mean that, don't you?” he murmured. He cupped Julian's face in his hand and brushed his thumb over his injured cheek. The bruise had faded to a brownish yellow. “Does this still hurt?”

Julian shook his head.

“I'm sorry,” he said. And he was. He was struck suddenly with the urge to take Julian to docking, find him a shuttle, and send him off with every last slip of latinum he had. Let him fly away from this wretched place, go back to his home – or if that wasn't possible, let him find a life for himself, one that was free. 

But he couldn't – he _couldn't._ “I am so sorry,” he repeated. It came out almost like a sob.

Julian put his hand over Garak's . He let it linger there a moment before gently leading Garak's hand away. “I think we should get some sleep,” he said. 

Garak looked into Julian's eyes, but couldn't tell what he was feeling. “All right,” he said quietly. 

They lay down together, Garak curled behind Julian with one arm around his waist. Julian didn't tense up or attempt to move away. Did this mean he was forgiven? Or that Julian was simply too tired to fight anymore? Garak kissed the back of Julian's neck – another apology. But he knew there was no apology adequate to what he was doing to him.


	4. Chapter 4

When Trog, the Ferengi proprietor of Trog's Traveling Luxury Emporium, arrived at Terok Nor for his quarterly visit, he was devastated to learn of the Intendant's death. She had been one of his best customers. However, his sorrow soon vanished when Garak brought out a dozen bricks of latinum and asked him to show him the finest of his wares. Garak felt like being extravagant, for his Julian was in a better mood.

It started the night after Garak's apology. Julian sat Garak down and explained that Garak's frequent requests were causing him pain. He also explained that it was difficult to respond to Garak's attentions when he was constantly taken by surprise. Julian asked that Garak reduce the frequency of his requests and give him notice in advance so that he could prepare himself. 

Garak agreed to all of it. As a show of good faith, he stopped his demands for six agonizing days. On the morning of the seventh day, he formally requested Julian's favors that night. He didn't like doing it; it felt as clinical as making an appointment. However, he changed his mind when he came home that evening and found Julian in bed, naked and ready for him.

That night was like nothing he'd ever experienced. It was more than their first time together, when Julian had merely taken pity on him. It was more than their second time, when Julian had gotten himself drunk enough to pretend he was someone else. It was certainly more than any of their other desperate, empty encounters. Julian kissed him in a way he hadn't before. His cock was hard when Garak slid inside him, and in the end, they came together. 

It almost felt like making love.

It wasn't, of course. Garak wasn't stupid. Julian's every move was for the sake of the Terrans, whom Garak grew to hate more every day. Garak hated how much Julian cared for them. He hated how Julian's every waking thought was dedicated to their betterment, including when he was in bed with him. He hated how the most wretched, foul Terran drew more of Julian's concern than he did.

But without the Terrans, he would not have Julian. It was a sour thought, but true. Still – it seemed like, slowly, there was something more growing between them. He was still very cool to Garak when they weren't in bed, but surely their heated nights meant things were moving in the right direction. Julian did, after all, have a lot of room in his heart for pitiful creatures. Maybe Garak could be one of them.

In the meantime, Garak planned on enjoying all of his good fortune to the fullest extent. Trog arrived just in time to capitalize on his desire. Garak had initially been pleased to inherit all of the Intendant's fine things, but as time wore on, it felt as though the Intendant lingered over them still. Garak sought to eradicate her presence for good by replacing everything. He bought new furniture and new decorations. He'd never had the pleasure of making over a room exactly the way he wanted it. He bought exotic spices for his kitchen, hoping to train a slave to cook him meals finer than the replicator could provide. He bought luxurious lotions, soaps and oils for the magnificent tub which he hadn't gotten around to using. He hadn't bathed that way since he was a child.

His favorite purchases, however, were new wardrobes for both himself and Julian. He kept his own clothes simple but elegant, since he most often wore armor over them anyway. For Julian, however, he had Trog's tailor design a collection of the finest clothing possible, full of bright colors and designs. Julian was already the most beautiful thing Garak had ever laid eyes on, but he wanted to making him even more appealing. He wanted to be able to spot Julian across the room – a bright light in the darkness and grime of Terok Nor that would lift Garak's spirits ever time he saw him. 

Julian did not seem very pleased with the new clothes. He was even less pleased with Garak's final purchase, a Vulcan eunuch called Ranrak. Ranrak was enormous – an intimidating mountain of a man with eyes as black as pits. He had been rendered mute by his previous owner, who had been obsessed with keeping secrets, according to Trog. That suited Garak just fine. Vulcans made wonderful slaves. They were a logical people; they understood that rebellion was highly unlikely to succeed. There were stories of Vulcan slaves going rogue – when that happened, it was almost always spectacularly gruesome – but for the most part, a Vulcan slave could be depended upon to be intelligent, skilled, and most of all, unfailingly obedient.

Ranrak was to be Julian's body guard. It was for his own protection, Garak explained. It wasn't a lie, exactly – Garak wanted to avoid another situation like the one with Odo, and while the overseers seemed sufficiently cowed by Garak's display of force, he couldn't rule out that they might try to make life difficult for Julian. But mostly, Garak wanted to keep an eye on everything Julian did. He instructed Ranrak to present him with a written report of Julian's activities every morning. 

Trog also brought with him Quark's brother, Rom. Garak was cautious about allowing another Ferengi on the station, particularly one related to Quark. However, the bar _did_ rightfully belong to him, so there wasn't much Garak could do about it. He just hoped that this Ferengi was more concerned with profit and less with the plight of Terran slaves. Garak sold the Intendant's Vulcan pleasure slaves, which made up some of the costs of his other purchases. He set Ranrak up in their former quarters, which were directly next door to his own. 

On the night Trog left, Garak insisted that Julian spend several hours with him, going through all of his exquisite new things. Julian played along well enough, but Garak knew that his thoughts were with his Terrans. He tried not to let it curdle his enjoyment. At the end of the evening, after he'd taken his pleasure with Julian, he lay awake in bed for a long time, trying to think if there was anything else that he wanted. He couldn't think of anything. 

So this, then, was what happiness felt like. It wasn't as satisfying as Garak had imagined.  
* * * 

Three more weeks passed uneventfully. There was some minor tension with the Klingons when Garak officially named Dukat his second-in-command. He really should have chosen Telok, but he didn't trust the man anymore. Dukat, in the meantime, had managed to weasel his way into Garak's good favor. He was a shameless bootlicker, but somehow, Garak found it less annoying than he used to. There was something reassuring about having someone around whose motives were so transparent. He even began spending some of his leisure time with him. In the past, Garak had always kept himself in peak physical condition, but he had let himself go somewhat recently. He recruited Dukat to be his sparring partner; they rented out holosuites from Rom several times a week to hone their battle skills.

Julian remained as maddeningly ambiguous as ever. Garak's frenzied desire had abated somewhat; he no longer requested sex from him every day, and rarely made afternoon appointments. He did, however, insist on having Julian's time in the evenings. He tried to talk to him, but their conversations ended up more like interrogations, with Julian answering his questions in as simply as possible. Through some of this questioning, Garak discovered that Julian enjoyed literature. After he learned that, he would sometimes have Julian read to him. He never paid much attention to whatever book Julian had selected, but he enjoyed listening to Julian's voice. 

Garak had almost resigned himself to their current situation, but he held out hope that things would warm up between the two of them. He was always looking for ways to deepen their intimacy. One day, Rom approached him with an offer. He'd been working on renovating the bar, and he had decided to add an upscale restaurant on the upper level. He wanted Garak to be his first customer, to 'cement their new friendship,' as he put it. Garak thought Julian might enjoy it. Maybe going outside of their routine could stimulate some new connection between them.

Garak walked into the infirmary to find Julian talking with Anna, the Terran woman he'd saved from Odo. Although now that he really looked at her, she seemed more a girl than a woman – sixteen or seventeen years old at the most. Garak noticed with annoyance that she looked perfectly healthy, in spite of the fact that Julian had told him just two days ago that she was unfit for work again. He'd pulled her out of the processing center three times since her encounter with Odo, claiming there were complications from her injuries.

“Anna, isn't it?” Garak said, addressing the girl. He always tried to be cordial to the Terrans now, especially when Julian was watching. “You're looking well today.” He gave Julian a pointed look.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Julian said. “I was just explaining to Anna that I've discovered she has a heart condition. I don't think she can work at the processing center anymore.”

Garak felt even more annoyed. “I'm not running a home for wayward Terrans. She has to work, or I'll have to sell her.”

The girl's eyes grew even wider. “Oh no, sir,” she said in a voice so soft that Garak struggled to hear her. “No, please don't send me away!”

That was odd. Why would any Terran want to stay in this wretched place? It was true that Julian had made vast improvements in the lives of the Terrans, but the work was still difficult. “Well, what did she do before she came here?” Garak asked Julian. 

Julian paused before answering. “She was training to be a Consort,” he said.

Garak was surprised. Sure enough, he saw the tattoo on the inside of her wrist marking her as one. Consorts were highly expensive Terran bed slaves, although that description didn't really do them justice. They were trained from a young age to be not only extraordinary lovers, but also to provide conversation, entertainment, and anything else their masters desired. They were mostly rented out on a contract from anywhere from a few months to a few years; buying one outright was something only the obscenely wealthy could afford. Anna was still fairly young, but that still meant someone had invested three or four years into her training. Throwing her away made no sense. He felt a surge of irritation at Dukat – he could guess his motivations for buying a slave so clearly unsuitable for the processing center. He'd have words with him later.

“Well then, she can't stay here,” Garak said. “I'll see if we can find a more suitable buyer for her.”

The girl looked horrified. Julian shot Garak a look of pure venom. “Anna, why don't you go back to the sleeping quarters?” he said. “We can talk about your treatments later.”

She looked to Garak before she left. “Yes, fine,” Garak said, waving her off. She practically ran from the room.

“What do you expect me to do?” Garak said to Julian once she'd left. “Feed her and shelter her while she sits around and does nothing?”

“There has to be something else that she can do here.”

“This is a ore processing center. It's all physical labor. If her heart truly can't take the strain, then the kindest thing to do is to find her a situation more suitable to her abilities.”

Julian's eyes flashed with anger, but he managed to keep his tone calm. “From what I understand, her past as a Consort-in-training will make her highly attractive to brothels. That's what you'd be condemning her to if you sent her away.” 

“And would that be so terrible? That's what she knows. I don't know why she was thrown out of training, but she'll still be attractive to that market. She'll be treated very well at the nicer establishments.”

“She's sixteen years old!” 

“Which means she's already had three years of training. She's no blushing virgin, Julian. She'll be fine. In the nicer places, she'd probably cultivate a few high-paying patrons – that's all. There are worse fates than being pampered and taken care of in exchange for an hour or two a day in bed with lonely men.”

The silence that fell after that statement was deafening. Julian didn't look at him. Instead, he pulled out a case and began to pack the medical equipment for his usual rounds on the processing center floor. Garak could see that his hands were shaking. He had upset him, obviously. He wasn't blind to the parallels Julian must be drawing to his own situation. But what was between them was different than that, wasn't it? Things had changed between them, hadn't they?

Julian snapped his medical case shut and looked at Garak again, eyes still burning with anger. “That's what she was running from. She was willing to die to get away from exactly that fate.”

Garak met Julian's gaze with anger of his own. “Then she's a fool.”

There was a tense moment. Julian was the one who broke eye contact first. “Perhaps,” he said, much more coolly than before. “Will you condemn her to death for it?”

Garak felt his anger deflate; now he simply felt tired. “And what would you have me do with her?” 

“I could use an assistant,” Julian said after a moment. “Would that be an acceptable use for her?”

Garak rubbed his brow; he could feel a headache coming on. “I'll think about it.” 

Julian gave him a grim nod in acknowledgment, but still wouldn't meet Garak's gaze. “I wasn't expecting you this afternoon,” he said. “Is there something you wanted?”

The mood, of course, was completely spoiled, but he forged ahead anyway. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, trying to affect a lighter tone. “Do you know Rom? He's Quark's brother – he's the one who's taken over the bar. He's decided to open a restaurant adjacent to the bar, and he wants me to be his first customer.”

“I'm surprised he isn't holding a grudge,” Julian said. “What with the way you murdered his brother.”

Garak glared at him. His headache was getting worse. “It wasn't murder,” he said. “It was an execution. There's a difference.”

“If you say so,” Julian said mildly. “What time do you expect me?”

“1900,” he said, more harshly than he intended. He looked down at Julian's clothing; he still wore drab worker's coveralls, in spite of the splendid new wardrobe he'd bought him. “And be sure to clean up and put on something nice. I didn't buy you those clothes to have them sit in the closet!”

They both left the infirmary. Garak walked back to his office in dejection. That had gone terribly. That dreadful Anna had made herself an annoyance one too many times. He should just get rid of her; Julian would get over it. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough other Terrans to care for. Garak sighed and rubbed his face. Or he could apologize and give Julian whatever he wanted. That was usually the way things went. 

He managed to distract himself well enough until 1900 arrived. He changed into an outfit he had brought with him to the office that morning. He examined himself in the mirror in his washroom. His new exercise routine was making him more muscular; he flattered himself that he even looked a little younger. He smoothed out the wrinkles on his new outfit; it wasn't as extravagant as some of the things he'd bought for Julian, but it was still nice. 

When he arrived at Rom's, he didn't see Julian at first, but a few moments later, he appeared at the entrance, accompanied by Ranrak. It was clear he spent some time on his appearance; his hair was well-coiffed, and his skin seemed to glow. He was wearing one of Garak's favorite purchases – a red shirt made from Krisosian silk. The collar dipped just enough to give him a glance of his collarbone when he moved. There were also small v-shaped slits that began at the top of his shoulders; it didn't reveal much skin, but it did have the effect of making his already long and lovely neck looked even longer. 

Before Garak could dismiss Ranrak, Julian made a few gestures of his hand to the Vulcan. Ranrak gestured back; a brief smile flitted over Julian's face. The Vulcan left with a bow. 

Garak frowned. “What was that?”

“Nothing. We were talking.”

“You've developed some sort of secret language?”

“It's not secret. It's Vulcan sign language. You can look it up yourself; I assumed you already had, since that's the only way he can talk.”

Garak hadn't, in fact. It wasn't as if Ranrak couldn't hear him well enough to follow orders. “What did you say?”

“I told him I would see him tomorrow,” Julian said. 

“And what did he say?”

“He told me to have fun.”

Before Garak could form a response to that, Rom spotted them from his position behind the bar and came out to greet them. “Welcome!” he said, flashing them a pointy smile. “I am so pleased that you accepted my invitation. Please, come with me – I have a table prepared for you on the upper level.”

Rom led them up the stairs. Garak had only ever noticed the first and second level of the bar, but Rom led them past the holosuites and up a spiral of stairs he'd never noticed before. When they reached the top, they stepped through a door. Suddenly, they were under a bright blue sky, complete with a friendly sun shining down on them with just the right amount of heat and light. 

“It's a holosuite,” Garak said, surprised.

“Not quite,” Rom said. “I've fitted the ceiling with holographic panels; it's not quite as expensive as running a full suite, but I think it provides a great deal of atmosphere.” He fiddled with a panel in the wall, and the scene changed to a starlit night. “I hope to have a number of options available, but I'm limited to two at the moment. Which do you prefer – sun or stars?”

“The sun,” Garak said without hesitation. 

Rom escorted them to one of the dozen of elegant tables. Two Terran slaves appeared behind Rom, carrying several baskets – one was full of fresh fruits, another with different varieties of bread, and another full of bottles. There was also a tray of small bowls of sauces for dipping the bread and the fruit. The slaves arranged the food and bottles on the table. They were to be served in the Bajoran style, apparently. Garak was glad Rom hadn't tried to curry favor by serving Cardassian food, which he didn't care for. 

“I have prepared an exquisite dining experience for you this evening,” Rom said. “It is my fondest wish that Rom's Bar will provide excellent dining and entertainment for the residents of this station and any travelers passing through, and I am truly honored that you are my first customer. Please, enjoy, and let me know if there's anything else I can do for you.” With that, he was gone, bringing the two Terrans with him. 

Garak selected a bottle from the basket and poured drinks for the two of them. He sliced some of the fruit and served them both. “This is nice,” Garak observed, dipping a piece of fruit into one of the sauces.

Julian shrugged and took a small sip from his glass, seeming disinclined to further conversation. 

“I would like to apologize for earlier,” he said. “Of course you can take Anna as your assistant. I was merely surprised at the request.”

“Thank you,” Julian said, although it didn't seem to improve his mood as Garak had hoped.

Silence fell on them again as they ate. Garak drank his wine and tried to think of something to talk about. “I wonder how much Rom plans to charge for this,” was what he finally came up with. “He shouldn't get his hopes too high – no one here is exactly rolling in latinum.” 

“Except for you,” Julian said.

“That's true,” Garak said with a smirk of satisfaction. “But surely he doesn't expect me to support the entire establishment.”

“In the other universe, this station is a very busy space port, with plenty of wealthy people passing through,” he said. “But that's mostly due to the wormhole, I suppose.”

“I wonder why there isn't one here.”

Julian looked away. “I don't know,” he said, his voice sounding distant. 

Garak realized that it was a sore subject for conversation. He finished his glass of wine. “But there might be an uptick in passers-through,” he said, hoping to steer the conversation to more a more neutral subject. “I'm told this station used to be a busier port before the Intendant took control. Her duty collection scheme with Sisko had forced many ships to take detours around this area of space. Maybe that's what Rom is counting on.”

“Perhaps,” Julian said. His own glass was still full, but he poured Garak another drink.

“If he's successful, he might draw other people to set up shop. We'd get a cut of the profits from anyone doing business here. The Intendant was greedy and wanted to keep the money under the table so she wouldn't have to share it. Wouldn't that be something – to have this station full of commerce and interesting travelers? I'd like to see that.” 

“I would think that a war might discourage that from happening,” Julian said. “That is what you're planning, isn't it?”

There was no one else in the room, but Garak still whipped his head around to be sure no one had heard Julian. “That isn't something you should be talking about in the open,” Garak said in a harsh whisper. 

“This isn't the open; there's no one else here.”

“You never know who might be listening.”

Julian shrugged again. 

Garak shouldn't have said anymore, but he felt compelled to answer Julian's question. “Besides, there isn't going to be a war. If the Klingons and Cardassians gather their armies, the invasion should be over in a matter of months. The Bajorans are a race of merchants; they won't put up much of a fight, especially if they're taken by surprise. It's just a matter of proper timing. The Klingons are dealing with some minor uprisings on some of the colonies, and the Cardassians are going through a planet-wide drought at the moment. Both of those should be cleared up by the end of the year.”

“And you just have to keep the Bajoran government off this station until then.”

“Precisely.” 

“If the Bajorans are really that weak, then do you actually need the combined powers of the Cardassians and the Klingons?”

“The Klingons could probably handle it, but they're spread pretty thin right now – they should stop conquering worlds and start focusing on keeping the ones they have, in my opinion. The Cardassians are a mess, though; I'm not sure we could handle it.” Garak suddenly realized how much sensitive information he had revealed. “You can't tell anyone this, you realize.”

“Who would I tell?” Julian said. “I'm just asking because I'd like to know what I need to prepare for. Will we be staying here after the invasion?”

 _We_. Garak liked the sound of that. “Most likely.”

“I thought you wanted to get away from here as soon as you could.”

“Perhaps in the future,” Garak said. He hadn't thought about his little dream of a quiet home on Bajor in a while. Things were going very well for him here. And besides, he thought sadly – what would keep his Julian with him if he didn't have a station full of hostages? “Things have changed here, though. It's not nearly as dreary a place, thanks to you.” 

Julian looked as if he were going to protest, but Garak cut him off. “It's true. This used to be hell, but you've changed that. You've made such a difference in so many lives – more than you could in the other universe, I'm sure.” Garak took his hand. “I hope you can see that. You've done so much good.”

“I've made slavery slightly more tolerable,” Julian said, unable to keep bitterness out of his voice. “It's not exactly what I had hoped to achieve with my life.”

Garak was saved from having to respond to that when the second course arrived – several large bowls of soup, with a few smaller, empty bowls for each of them so that they could sample as many as they liked. “You seem to be getting on well with O'Brien,” he said, trying to move the conversation in a more positive direction. “You're working on a new project together, aren't you?”

“Yes. We have some ideas for changes we can make to the equipment. Many of the machines are made for species stronger than Terrans; with a few minor changes, it should make things easier for them. With your approval, we should be ready to start the modifications within the week. I'll need you to excuse some of the Terrans to help us.”

“Of course. Anything you need.” 

If Garak was hoping for a thank you, he was left disappointed. He turned his attention to enjoying the food; it really was quite good. The next course arrived – fowl of some sort in a creamy sauce, served on individual plates, as well as some bowls of cooked vegetables. He stopped attempting conversation and admired Julian in the artificial sunlight for a while as he drank more wine. It seemed as if he should be used to Julian's beauty by now, but he wasn't. Every day, it took him by surprise. “You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you,” Julian said mechanically. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“The food is excellent.”

 _That isn't an answer,_ Garak thought, annoyed. “You're still upset about that Terran girl, aren't you? I already apologized. What else would you have me do? No, don't answer that,” he said as started in on his plate. “I'm sure you'd say I should free her, isn't that right? And what would become of her then? She wouldn't survive a day. Someone would snatch her up, and she'd end up a lot worse off than she is here. Even she knows that – that's why she begged me not to send her away!” He emphasized his point with a stab of his knife into his entree.

“Is this really what you wanted to do tonight?” Julian asked. “Argue?”

Garak managed to bring his boiling temper down to a seethe. “Of course not.”

“Neither do I,” Julian said. He managed a small smile. “Could we drop all of that and just enjoy a nice meal? That is what you wanted, isn't it?”

The last of Garak's anger melted away. “Yes,” he said. “I would like that very much.”

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, but it was more companionable than hostile. After a while, Garak felt Julian's foot rub against his leg under the table. “Are you finished?” he asked. “Because I'd like to go back to our quarters.”

Garak didn't have to be told twice. As they made their way out of the restaurant, Rom intercepted them. “Was everything to your satisfaction?” 

“Yes – very enjoyable,” Garak said brusquely. 

“I'm pleased to hear it,” Rom said. “I hope the rest of your evening is just as enjoyable.” He dipped his head to Garak, and then turned to Julian. “And to you as well. Always a pleasure to see you.”

Garak was a bit surprised at that. “You know him?” he asked as they walked down the corridor. 

“We've met,” Julian said. “He _has_ been on the station for a few weeks, you know.”

“You didn't mention it.”

“You didn't ask.”

“It seems like you're making new friends left and right,” he muttered. “What have you two talked about?”

“Nothing much. He mostly wanted to know what sorts of things you like.”

Garak frowned. Ranrak had made no note of Rom in any of the very detailed notes he kept on Julian's activities. It wouldn't be as strange if they'd only met once, but it felt as if they'd talked multiple times. Were they deliberately meeting when they knew no one was watching? Or was Ranrak leaving their meetings out of his reports? He supposed it was possible that neither was true – if they only talked for a few minutes, maybe when Julian was out on the floor and temporarily out of Ranrak's sights.

“You speak to him often?”

Julian gave him an annoyed look. “Why are you interrogating me about this?”

“I'm not,” Garak insisted. 

“Good,” Julian said. He slipped his hand into Garak's. All thoughts of Rom immediately vanished. 

When they got back to their quarters, Julian disappeared into the washroom. Julian was very insistent on following a certain routine when they were to be intimate. Garak enjoyed the results too much to make much of a fuss. He undressed while he waited for Julian to finish his shower. Finally, Julian emerged, nude and still slightly wet. He gave Garak a gentle push towards the bed until he was sitting on the edge. Julian straddled him and he drew him into a kiss.

It didn't take long until they were both hard. Garak pulled Julian down until they were lying side by side, still kissing and caressing each other. Garak drew back for a moment. “Have you accepted my apology?” he asked. 

“Which one?” 

“Any of them.”

Julian didn't say anything. He cupped Garak's face and pulled him in for another kiss. He moved their bodies together until Garak's thigh was between his legs, letting out a soft moan as his hard cock rubbed against him. 

It seemed that was as much of a answer as Garak would get. They kissed for a little while longer until they were both panting. Julian slid his hands down to Garak's ass, urging him forward. Garak broke the kiss and moved over Julian, settling between his spread knees. He reached between his legs and felt that Julian was already slick. He grabbed a bottle of lubricant from the side table. Julian easily took two of Garak's slicked fingers; it only took a few more moments until Julian was ready for Garak's cock. 

Julian made a move to turn over, but Garak stopped him. He knew Julian preferred being taken from behind (and it gave him a little thrill that he now knew Julian's sexual preferences), but Garak wanted him on his back tonight. He pushed Julian's knees back against his chest. Julian put his hands on his thighs, holding himself open. 

Garak positioned himself and slowly pushed in. He loved watching the expressions on Julian's face as he took him. He winced at first as Garak worked his way fully inside, but then his eyes fluttered shut, his mouth opened as he let out a breathy _oh_. That _oh_ became a moan as Garak slid out and back in again, and soon he lost control completely, his head thrashing side to side as he let out the most arousing sounds as Garak fucked him in earnest – groans and pants and finally, a scream as he came, with Garak still thrusting inside him while he stroked Julian's cock in his slick fist. That sent Garak over the edge; he made one last thrust, holding himself flush against Julian as he spent himself, emptying everything he had inside him.

Garak withdrew carefully. Julian gave his legs a good stretch before curling up on his side, his whole body relaxed. Garak spooned up behind him; they lay there together in the afterglow. He shouldn't spoil it, but Garak had a sudden surge of courage to ask a question that had been on his mind for weeks. “Do you still think of him when you're with me?”

Julian rolled over and looked him in the eye. “No,” he said simply. 

Relief flooded through him. He gathered Julian closer, but after a moment, Julian started to pull away. “I need to clean up.”

“I'll get you a washcloth,” Garak said. He kissed his temple before rising from the bed.

Garak had to stretch as well when he got up; his knees weren't in as good of shape as they used to be. After a few crackles, he made his way to the washroom. When he opened the linen cabinet, he saw that they were almost out of clean towels. He spotted a washcloth in the back corner; he pulled it out. As he was wetting it in the sink, something rolled out of the closet and onto the floor. Puzzled, Garak picked it up.

It was a hypospray.

He took both it and the washcloth to the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What's this?” he asked Julian, holding up the hypospray.

Julian pushed himself up on one arm and took a long look at it. “It's a hypospray,” he said.

“Yes, I know that. I found it in the linen closet. What was it doing there?”

“I have headaches sometimes,” he said. “I think they're caused by the exhaust from the machines in the processing center.” 

“Why was it hidden in the linen closet?”

“It wasn't hidden – ”

“It was in the bottom back corner under a washcloth,” Garak said. “It was hidden.”

Julian ran his hand through his hair. “My headaches are getting more severe. I have it under control now, but I didn't want you to worry. That's why I hid it.”

“Headaches,” Garak echoed. 

Julian nodded.

“And they're getting worse?”

“It's nothing. As I said, I have it under control.” He plucked the washcloth out of Garak's hand and wiped it over Garak's cock. Even after their love-making, he still felt a small pulse of pleasure. With his other hand, Julian took the hypospray and put it on the bedside table. “It's empty, anyway. I'll have to fill it again tomorrow.” He drew Garak back down to the bed and gave him the washcloth. “Will you do me?”

As if Garak could refuse that. When he was done cleaning him off, Julian gave him a kiss and curled up on his side, drawing Garak's hand around his waist. Julian soon fell asleep, but Garak stayed awake for a long time. 

Julian had lied to him tonight. He'd spent enough years as an interrogator to know that much. But why? Garak held Julian's sleeping body closer to him. The real question was whether or not he wanted to know the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Garak woke up early. Julian was still asleep. He looked to the bedside table; the hypospray was still there. Good – he was worried that Julian might have gotten up during the night to hide it again. He grabbed it, after which he got ready for the day as quickly and quietly as possible. He gave Julian one last look before he left. He was sprawled out on his stomach, snoring peacefully. Garak felt a brief pang in his heart. Could he really sleep so well if he was hiding something? 

Garak went straight to Dr. Neeltris' quarters. He rang the door chime several times. Finally, he answered, only half awake and perhaps a little hung over. “What is it?” he snapped, but then he seemed to realize who it was. “Oh – good morning, sir! I apologize, you roused me from sleep. Is there an emergency?”

“I need you to run a test for me,” he said. 

“Oh,” he said. He paused. “I suppose it can't wait?”

“No,” Garak said. “It can't. Get dressed and meet me in the infirmary. You have ten minutes.”

Dr. Neeltris arrived promptly. Garak handed him the hypospray. “I need to know what was in this hypospray.”

The doctor took it from him. “It's empty,” he said. 

“I know that. Can't you see if there are any traces of something left in it?”

“I can try.” The doctor plugged the hypospray into a port in one of the consoles and squinted at the results on the screen. “Well, there was enough in it to pick something up, but I have no idea what it is. It doesn't match anything in the database.”

“Can you make a guess?”

“I'm a doctor, not a chemist,” he said. “Why don't you ask Dr. Julian? He's our resident genius.”

“That isn't an option.” Garak rubbed his temple and tried to keep his temper. “Look at it again. Is it possible that it's a pain killer?”

The doctor stared at the screen again. He typed at the console for a few minutes. “Possibly? It looks like it might work on the opioid receptors.”

“How sure are you?”

“Reasonably sure,” he said after a moment's consideration, but he didn't sound very confidant. 

Garak rolled up his sleeve. “Test my blood for traces of it.”

The doctor obediently drew his blood and ran it through the computer. “Looks like you're clean,” he said. “At least right now. I have no idea what the duration of this drug is. It's possible you were dosed and it's already out of your system.”

Garak made a sound of frustration. “You're dismissed,” he said. “And don't tell anyone about this.”

Garak's next stop was the slaves' quarters. The slaves had just finished receiving their morning rations. After a few moments of searching, he found O'Brien. “You,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Come with me.” O'Brien obediently followed Garak to the processing center. “Show me the changes you and Julian have planned,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” O'Brien led him to one of the machines used to lift the ore into the main processing unit. He squatted down to the base and pointed to a small device. “This gives an extra boost whenever a worker lifts a load. These machines are made for Cardassians – Terrans aren't as strong.” He added under his breath: “Doesn't seem fair, does it.”

Garak bent down to examine the device himself. “And how does it work?”

“Not much to it. When a worker lifts the lever, it activates the booster, which helps push the load up and move it into the processing unit. Requires less range of motion for the worker, too. Won't take up extra energy neither, if you're worried about it – they run on their own power cells.”

“Their own power cells?” Garak asked. “Isn't that potentially explosive?”

“Everything in the processing center is potentially explosive,” O'Brien pointed out. “Besides, they're small.”

“And this was Julian's design?”

“No, it's mine. Thought of it a while ago, actually. Dr. Julian was the first person to listen.”

Garak searched O'Brien's face for any signs of nervousness; there were none. O'Brien was one of the most obedient slaves Garak had ever seen. He was not only well-behaved, but generally helpful and motivated to work. He couldn't remember a single time that he had needed discipline. Would he risk everything on some scheme to sabotage the station?

Garak gave the device one last look. If he stopped the project, there would be no end of trouble with Julian. He supposed he could let it continue for now and keep a close eye on it. “I'll tell the overseers to allow you to begin work. Choose a crew – no more than ten Terrans, and be quick about it.”

“Yes, sir,” O'Brien said. He left.

Garak went to his office to start his day. Ranrak arrived shortly after to deliver his report. Garak scrolled through it and discovered a mention of a meeting between Julian and Rom yesterday morning. Was it possible he had been wrong about Ranrak leaving Rom out? He'd have to go through old reports when he had the time.

He tried to begin his work, but had trouble concentrating. He'd hoped for some clear-cut evidence to either justify his paranoia or quell it, but he was left still not knowing what to think. The drug was probably something Julian had synthesized, but that wasn't necessarily suspicious; he'd complained several times that all of the drugs in the computer's system weren't well-suited for Terrans. Similarly, the modifications to the machines appeared to do exactly what Julian had described. And the connection with Rom was perhaps as innocuous as Julian claimed.

But then again – Julian was very clever. If he were plotting something, of course he'd have an innocent-seeming cover for everything. He sighed. He decided it was best to leave things alone for now and see how they played out. 

Around mid-morning, Dukat poked his head into Garak's office. “Good morning, sir!” he said, sounding cheerful. “I just wanted to see if we were still on for this afternoon.”

“Oh yes,” Garak said with a smile. Dukat required reprimanding, and with the mood Garak was in, he planned on enjoying it. “Yes, we are.”

“Excellent! I'll see you at Rom's around 1400, then. I think we decided on Klingon style this time, yes?” He struck a few poses with an imaginary bat'leth. “I have to warn you – I've been practicing my moves, so you better be ready for me!” 

Garak left for Rom's early, stopping first at his quarters to retrieve his bat'leth. It had been a gift from Telok; he felt a tinge of regret that things had gone sour between them. He arrived at Rom's a little before Dukat. It wasn't busy that time of the day; he found Rom re-stocking the bar. He stood up when he saw Garak. “Good afternoon, Gul! Here for you're sparring session, I assume? I'll open your holosuite right away.”

“I thought I'd have a refreshment first,” Garak said. “Perhaps one of those performance-enhancing mixtures you're always suggesting I try.”

Rom smiled. “Of course. Rom's Bar caters to any need and every desire of its customers.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “And just so you know – next week I'll be bringing in some new Terran bed slaves who I think you will find very...intriguing.” He gave Garak a lacivious look. “A man needs a little variety every now and then, eh?”

Garak gave him a tight smile. “I wanted to thank you again for last night,” he said as Rom made his drink. 

“It was my pleasure!” Rom said. “I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself. Be sure to tell all your friends.”

“You've been very kind,” he said. “I hope you're not holding any hard feelings about the nasty business with your brother?”

“Hard feelings?” Rom said with a disconcertingly goofy laugh. “Don't be ridiculous. My brother and I didn't exactly get along, and as the sixth Rule of Acquisition states, 'Never let family get in the way of profit.' Besides, you saved me the cost of a funeral.” He placed Garak's drink in front of him. “There you are – enjoy.”

While Garak drank his beverage, Rom busied himself with putting away some bottles. He was humming cheerfully to himself; if he was out for revenge, he was doing a good job of hiding it. “Things are going well with business, I take it?” he asked.

“It's good enough to keep things running for now,” Rom said. “But once I finish my renovations, things are going to take off – I can feel it in my lobes. This bar is adjacent to one of the wealthiest planets in this corner of the universe, and a little bird told me I can expect a lot more traffic coming through, now that there's been a – ah, how should I put it?” He inclined his head towards Garak in a conspiratorial fashion. “A change in management.” He let out another goofy laugh. “Can I get you another?” he asked, gesturing to Garak's empty glass.

“No, I've had enough,” Garak said. His mood had improved a bit – Rom was the exact right amount of disgusting to allay his suspicions. “Thank you. I found it very refreshing.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rom said with a pointy smile. 

Dukat arrived shortly after, dressed for battle. He chattered to Garak obliviously as Rom led the two of them up to their usual holosuite. They stepped into a landscape of rocks, red light, and stifling heat. As soon as Dukat had replicated himself a bat'leth, Garak came at him. Dukat managed to deflect the blow.

“Shouldn't we warm up first?” he said, blinking in surprise.

“One doesn't always get the chance to warm up before battle,” Garak said, striking again. “Does one?”

Dukat deflected the blow again. “I – I suppose not.”

Garak started to circle around him. “Besides, I'm in a bit of a foul mood, and I thought I'd take it out on you. Hope you don't mind.” 

This time, he came at him in earnest. Dukat, to his credit, was quick to react, although he kept his moves solely defensive. He eventually threw Garak back enough to get some breathing room. “Something's troubling you, sir?” he panted.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Yesterday, Julian told me that one of the slaves you purchased is unfit for work. She has a heart condition.”

“Which slave?” Dukat said. There was a touch of alarm in his voice.

“A girl with red hair. Anna, I think she's called.”

“ _Anna?_ ” Dukat echoed. He looked crestfallen. It wasn't the reaction Garak had expected. 

Garak attacked him again. Dukat's defense was much weaker this time; he seemed distracted. Garak fell back of his own accord. He gave Dukat a searching look, trying to determine what direction he should lead the interrogation. It was a skill he hadn't used much as of late. He was almost having fun. “I probably shouldn't let it bother me. It's an inconvenience, to be sure, but it turns out she was a Consort in training. She'll fetch a good price to the right buyer.”

“Buyer?” he said weakly. 

Garak started to circle Dukat again, determining the best line of attack. “I suppose what's really bothering me is that she is so clearly unsuited for physical labor. Anyone with eyes could see that. Wouldn't you agree?”

“I – yes, I suppose so...”

Garak attacked him again, holding nothing back this time. He easily disarmed Dukat and sent him crashing to the floor. He held the tip of the bat'leth against Dukat's throat. “Then _why did you purchase her?_ ” 

Dukat sputtered, but had no coherent answer.

“Was it because you thought that you had leave to populate the slave population with your own private harem?”

“No, sir!” Dukat said. “No, that wasn't it at all!”

“But by your own admission, she looks clearly unsuited for an ore processing center. So I ask again – why did you waste my money on her?”

“I felt sorry for her!” Dukat said. “The brothel owners were descending on her like vultures, and I knew exactly what was in store for her. I've spent enough time in brothels to know. They kept hitting her because she couldn't stop crying.” Dukat gaze softened as he spoke. “And she is so young, and so lovely, with all that red hair, and such a long, pale throat...”

“So you decided to buy her to have her all to yourself.”

“No,” Dukat said, meeting Garak's gaze. “I haven't touched her, I swear it!”

Garak pressed the tip of his bat'leth into his skin, just hard enough to draw out a drop of black blood. Dukat shut his eyes and swallowed, his whole body taught with tension. Abruptly, Garak withdrew his blade. “Get up,” he said.

Dukat shakily got to his feet. “I'm sorry, sir,” he said. “I thought she was going to be able to work. I really did.”

“If you felt so sorry for her, then why would you condemn her to this station?”

“You said you were going to treat the Terrans better,” Dukat said. “And you have.” Dukat paused, then continued hesitantly. “Beauty has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts, doesn't it?”

Garak lowered his bat'leth. He picked up a bottle of water that Rom had thoughtfully provided and threw it to Dukat before grabbing one for himself. They both took a moment to drink and catch their breaths. “Is she going to be all right?” Dukat asked eventually.

“Julian seems to think she'll be fine, as long as she avoids hard labor.”

“Are you going to sell her?”

“Against my better judgment, no,” Garak said. “I've given Julian permission to train her as his assistant.”

Dukat grinned at him. “Pretty Terrans, am I right?” he said. “There's something about them that can leave one utterly helpless. It's their necks, I think.”

Garak gave him a severe look. “Don't push it,” he said. 

They finished up their hour in the suite. The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. When Garak got back to his quarters, he was surprised by a sweet smell as he stepped through the door. He found Julian and Ranrak in the kitchen. Julian was pulling something out of the oven.

When they saw Garak, Julian made a few motions with his hand to Ranrak, who responded in kind. He gave Garak a bow and left. 

“What were you chatting about this time?” Garak said, annoyed.

“He was just saying good night,” Julian said. “Is that not allowed?”

Garak gave an irritated grunt in reply. He still didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do about it. “What are these?” he asked, indicating the circular-shaped food on the table.

“Cookies,” Julian said. “It was a slow day in the infirmary. You're always saying we should use the kitchen.”

When Garak reached for one, Julian swatted his hand with a spatula. “They're for after dinner.”

Garak cradled his hand; that had actually hurt. Still, he couldn't bring himself to be bothered. Julian was never in a good mood, exactly; however, he did have times when his demeanor was...milder, for lack of a better word. This seemed to be one of those times. He watched Julian busy himself around the kitchen for a while. He was wearing a shirt with subtle patterns in green, brown and gold. It buttoned all the way to the hollow of his throat, where it ended with a folded collar – something a Cardassian could never wear. 

Julian pulled out one last batch of “cookies” and set them to cool. They made their way to the dining room; Garak got out of his armor while Julian replicated a meal. When they were finished, Julian brought out some of the cookies and handed a few to Garak.

“What are these black spots?” Garak asked.

“Chocolate chips.”

Terrans were crazy for this chocolate stuff, it seemed. He frowned. “The replicators aren't programmed to make chocolate, are they?”

“No,” Julian said. “I got it from Rom.”

“It seems you talk to Rom quite often.”

“Why do you care so much if I talk to him?” 

“I don't. It was merely an observation.” 

Julian gave him a look. “He's the one who approaches me. He just wants to get on your good side. If it bothers you so much, then order him to leave me alone.” 

“I said it doesn't bother me,” Garak snapped. Julian rolled his eyes. 

Garak tried to will himself into a better mood. He took a bite from his cookie. He didn't particularly care for the taste, but he finished it anyway. “I gave O'Brien the go-ahead today to begin your project.”

“Yes, I know.”

_You're welcome,_ he thought sourly. You'd think he'd give him a little credit. Although maybe that was what this whole cookie business was, and he'd ruined it with talks of Rom. He sighed. “These cookies are very good,” he said. 

“I thought I'd take them to the infirmary tomorrow.”

So they were for the Terrans. Of course they were. He bit down his irritation. “And how was Anna's first day?” he said, maybe a bit too brightly. 

“It went well. She's very intelligent.” Julian finished his cookie, then set about cleaning up the dishes. Garak poured himself a drink at the bar. His irritation started to abate; now he just felt glum. This should be a pleasant evening. He'd come home to find Julian putting around in the kitchen, looking delectable. They'd shared a nice meal. They'd skirted up to the edge of an argument, but hadn't actually gone over it. 

But it still didn't _feel_ right. Always in the back of his mind were thoughts of the other Elim. If Garak were him, Julian would have greeted him with a kiss. Perhaps the other Elim would have teased Julian a little; Julian would tease back. They'd share a laugh together. When they sat down for their meal, they would have talked about their day – airing their frustrations, offering supportive comments. Home would be a place of comfort, not a battlefield.

As he looked moodily into his glass, however, a thought occurred to him. Julian had now been with him longer than he'd been romantically involved with the other Elim. Much longer, in fact. He'd had Julian in every possible way, dozens of times. That thought gave him a great deal of satisfaction. He even smiled a little. 

After he was done cleaning up, Julian headed for the bedroom. Garak put a hand on his arm as he passed. “It's a little early for bed, isn't it?”

Julian let out a barely perceptible sigh. “Would you like me to read to you?”

“That would be nice.”

Garak finished his drink while Julian took out his padd. He poured himself another before joining Julian on the sofa. Once they were both comfortable, Julian began to read. It was some ancient Terran play, too archaic for Garak to understand. He leaned back, shut his eyes, and let Julian's voice run over him. Some time passed; Garak wasn't sure how much. The wine had left him pleasantly buzzed. He almost drifted off right there, but he caught himself. He opened his eyes and sat up. 

Julian continued to read as if he hadn't noticed. “ _But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'er, Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves..._ ”

Garak noticed that the top button of his shirt was undone. He leaned over and undid the next one. Julian stopped reading after that. Garak undid the third one. He slid his hand into his shirt and over his collarbone. His breath quickened; he moved to undo the fourth. 

Julian caught his hand. He pushed it firmly away. “Would you like a massage?” he asked. 

Garak took a moment to collect himself. “That would be fine,” he said.

They moved to the bedroom. Garak took off his clothes while Julian found some oil. Once he was undressed, he lay face down on the bed. He felt a gentle dip as Julian sat down beside him. The next thing he felt was Julian's slick hands over his shoulder blades – under his ridges, not along them. He relaxed into the touch; this wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it still felt good. Julian's hands were skilled and surprisingly strong. 

Julian worked his shoulders and back until he felt like putty. He nudged Garak to roll over, then continued on his legs, working out the kinks from his session with Dukat. At last, he turned his attention to Garak's ridges, rubbing them in long, firm strokes. Before long, his cock was hard. Julian grasped him in his oiled hand and quickly brought him to completion. 

Afterward, Julian wiped his hand with a cloth from the bedside table. He stifled a yawn. “I'm going to take a shower,” he said. Garak couldn't summon the energy to reply. 

The afterglow faded as he listened to the running of the water. He couldn't understand it. Yesterday, they had a terrible argument, but Julian had seemed actually eager to get into bed afterward, and enjoyed himself once they were there. Tonight, in contrast, had been less unpleasant, but Julian deflected his advances. Why? What sense did that make?

Well – they did have intercourse yesterday. Julian had said that being too frequent caused him discomfort. And, of course, Garak had not followed Julian's rule of asking beforehand. But what preparations did he need to do that required hours of advance notice? He was bathing right now, and Garak was more than willing to take his time getting him ready. 

But he didn't have his hypospray with him tonight, did he? That was the difference. Julian was drugging himself into enjoying sex. That had to be the answer. _And why do you care?_ asked a small voice inside him. It wasn't as if it were a big shock that Julian didn't truly enjoy sex. If that's what it took, then so be it. He should just let it alone. On the other hand – it was a lie, and if Julian was lying to him about this, then what else was he lying about? 

He rubbed his face. He could also be wrong. Perhaps his disinterest tonight was that he was simply tired, or distracted, or any other number of things, and the hypospray really was merely medicine for headaches. Besides, what could he do about it either way? Ordering him to stop taking it wouldn't work as long as Julian had as much freedom as he currently did. Garak certainly didn't want to lock him up again. 

The water stopped running. Julian emerged from the washroom already dressed for bed; he climbed into bed. Just as he was about to turn out the light, he turned to Garak. “Have you seen the hypospray I left on the table last night?”

“It's not there?” Garak said. 

“No. It's not.”

“Maybe it fell under the bed.”

“It hasn't. I've checked.”

“Then I don't know where else it could be.” Two could play at this game.

Julian shrugged. “It doesn't really matter. I have a dozen others.” He leaned down until his face was inches from Garak's. “I suppose I'll just have to be careful about leaving them lying around, won't I?” He kissed him, his tongue flicking briefly on the inside of Garak's lower lip in a way that sent a pulse of pleasure through him. “Good night.” Julian lowered the lights before lying down on his stomach. Within minutes, he was snoring. 

Sleep did not come so easily for Garak. Questions and doubts swirled in his mind. If he could put even one of them to rest, perhaps he'd feel better. The hypospray seemed like the easiest claim to investigate. He'd just have to catch him in the act.

* * * 

Garak stopped by the infirmary the next afternoon. Ranrak was standing silently in the corner, as usual. He was surprised, however, to see Dukat there as well, talking to Julian. He abruptly stopped what he was saying when he saw Garak.

“Well, then,” he said brightly to Julian. “Thanks for taking a look at my shoulder – it feels much better. Oh, hello sir!” he said, turning his attention to Garak. “Almost didn't see you there!”

Garak and Julian both rolled their eyes. 

“Guess I should be going – duites to do and all that.” He turned back to Julian and lowered his voice a little. “But you will keep in mind what we talked about?” 

Julian just gave him a look. Dukat clapped him on the arm. “Right. Off I go. Oh – and will you tell Anna I'm glad to hear she's feeling better?”

“Why don't you tell her yourself? I know you're meeting her tonight.”

The look on Dukat's face was comical. He let out a forced laughed. “Oh, we're not – I mean, I might be in her generally vicinity later tonight, but we're not _meeting_ – ”

“Just get out,” Garak said. Dukat fled the room. “You too,” he said to Ranrak. Ranrak bowed and left.

“That little weasel,” Garak said when they were gone. “He said he wasn't fucking her.”

“He's not,” Julian said as he typed a few things on his console.

“Then why are they meeting?”

“To whisper sweet nothings to each other. Maybe exchange a few chaste kisses.”

“You're joking.”

“I wish I were. They think they're in love.”

“I take it you don't approve.”

“I think that Anna is very young, and Dukat's a complete idiot.” 

Garak snorted. “What else was he blathering about?”

“Production is down. He wants me to be extra nice to you before he gives you his report.” He turned from his console to his padd. 

Garak took the padd from him and set it aside. Julian shot him a look of annoyance. “Is there something I can do for you?” he said icily. 

“Aren't you supposed to be nice to me right now?”

“Is there something I can do for you, _my darling_?”

Garak snorted again. He saw that Julian was wearing one of his nice shirts; this one was a shimmery green. “You've been wearing your new clothes, I've noticed,” he said, running his hand over the fabric.

“You ordered me to, didn't you?” Julian's eyes darted to Garak's clothing as well; he must have noticed he wasn't wearing his armor. He tried to step aside, but Garak blocked him. He moved forward until he had Julian backed up against the examination table. 

“I like this one. It brings out the color in your eyes.”

“Thank you.” He tried to step aside again. Garak put his hands on the table, preventing him from leaving. Julian briefly clenched his fists, but when he spoke, his tone was even. “I wasn't expecting you this afternoon.”

“I can't drop by to say hello?”

“Hello, then. And now if you'll excuse me, I have things to do.”

“You can spare a few minutes.” Garak leaned in for a kiss. Julian reluctantly returned it. After a moment, he started to kneel, but Garak stopped him. “No – up on the table.”

Julian put his hands on Garak's chest – not pushing him away, exactly, but still trying to hold him at bay. “I thought we'd agreed you would give me notice – ”

“Is there really no room for spontaneity?” Garak said, snaking a hand around Julian's waist and pulling him closer. He started to kiss his neck.

Julian affected a lighter tone. “It will be much better if you wait for tonight – ”

“Not tonight. _Now._ ” He went back to kissing him. 

Julian allowed it for a moment. “I still have to get cleaned up,” he said. Garak allowed him to escape. He stopped at a drawer to pull out a towel – and something else. 

Garak smirked in triumph as Julian disappeared into the washroom. He allowed him a minute or two before he followed him. The door, however, was locked. He cursed to himself and typed in his override code. He fumbled it; by the time he entered it correctly, two more minutes had passed. 

He burst in to find Julian getting ready to turn on the shower. He was already undressed. The towel lie neatly folded on top of the toilet. Garak grabbed it and shook it out, but there was nothing in it. He searched through Julian's discarded clothing – nothing. He opened the small cabinet above the sink. There were a few bottles and cloths, but nothing else.

He started to search the rest of the room. It was very small – only a toilet, a sink, and a shower head separated from the rest of the room by a curtain. He couldn't see any other obvious places it might be hidden. He looked in the cabinet again. 

“What are you doing?” Julian asked.

Garak got down on his hands and knees, feeling along the floor and walls for a secret compartment. “Where is it?” 

“Where is what?”

Garak got back to his feet. “You know what I mean. You brought something in here.”

“The towel?”

Garak glared at him. “Don't be cute. Tell me where it is.”

“You mean this?” Julian said. He was holding a bottle of lubricant. 

Garak grabbed it. Was this really all he'd brought? As he was blinking stupidly at it, Julian turned on the shower. “Would you like to join me?”

Garak turned his attention to Julian, but he was still reeling in confusion. He had been so _sure._ Julian plucked the bottle from his hand and placed it in the soap dish. He gave Garak a gentle push backward until he was sitting on the toilet. Julian knelt down to unlace his boots. After he'd pulled them off, he sat in Garak's lap and pulled his shirt over his head. 

Julian threw the shirt aside. He put a surprisingly tender hand on Garak's cheek, drawing him into a kiss so sweet that it took Garak aback. But he'd been seething minutes ago, hadn't he? The only way it made any sense was if he had drugged himself – but there was no hypospray. The kiss grew deeper. He could feel Julian becoming hard against his thigh. But that made no _sense._ Unless, in spite of everything, Julian wanted him after all? 

Garak felt like he was going insane. He stood up, forcing Julian off of his lap, and pushed him backwards until he was up against the wall. His gaze darted around Julian's face, searching for some sort of clue. _What are you hiding from me?_

“Is there something the matter?” Julian asked. Garak shook his head, unable to speak. For the briefest moment, Garak thought he saw a smirk cross Julian's lips, but it was gone as suddenly as Garak noticed it. Julian drew him into another kiss. Garak kissed back – what other choice did he have?

Julian took his hand and pulled him gently forward. Garak undid his own trousers, stumbling out of them as Julian led him to the shower. “Get a washcloth and some soap,” he said. 

Garak obeyed. He started to give them to Julian, but instead of taking them, Julian pulled him in under the spray. Water splashed in Garak's face, temporarily blinding him. Julian kissed him until he felt dizzy. After a moment, Julian broke the kiss and turned around. “Clean me up,” he said over his shoulder. Garak soaped up the washcloth and brought it between Julian's legs. He moaned and pushed back against him. After a few moments, he guided Garak's hand towards his cock, encouraging him to stroke it. Garak dropped the washcloth so he could feel Julian against his bare skin. Julian moaned again, harder this time.

Julian took the lube from the soap dish and pressed it into Garak's hand. Somehow he managed to slick his fingers and coax Julian open. When Julian was ready, he coated his cock and slid inside. The water continued to beat down on them – it was in his face, he felt like he was drowning – steam started to rise as the shower grew hot, hotter, hot enough to scald – it was too much – and Julian was so tight it was like he was drawing Garak into him – it was _too much_ –

He mouthed desperately at Julian's neck while his hands fumbled across his skin, too uncoordinated to do much else. Julian reached a hand down to stroke himself; within moments, he was coming, bearing down hard on Garak's cock. Garak braced himself against the wall as his orgasm overtook him. 

After a moment, Julian extracted himself. By some miracle, Garak managed not to collapse. Julian had himself dried off, dressed, and out of the room before Garak got himself together enough to shut the water off. He dried himself as best he could with the wet towel Julian had left behind. His clothes stuck to him as he pulled them on. After he finished putting on his boots, he went back out to the exam room.

Julian had just finished packing his kit. “Going for your rounds?” Garak asked – an admittedly stupid question, but he didn't know what else to say.

Julian gave a brief nod, but didn't really look at him. Garak walked over to him and tried to kiss him. Julian deflected him with a firm hand to his chest. “Not now,” he said. His expression was stony. It was like the last fifteen minutes hadn't happened. Garak almost felt like he hallucinated the whole thing, but Julian's hair was still wet, and there was a red mark on his neck where Garak's mouth had been.

“I'll see you tonight?” he mumbled helplessly.

“Of course. It's not like I have anywhere else to go, is it?” he said with his familiar sarcasm. With that, he left the room.

Garak stood there for a long time. Everything seemed to point to Julian's innocence. Why, then, did he still feel a creeping sense of dread? He brushed his hand over a drawer. After a moment's consideration, he opened it and rifled through its contents. There were no hyprosprays. He moved on the next drawer, and the next one, and the one after that. Still, there were none. But Julian said he had dozens. Surely he needed them to treat his patients? Why would he hide them all? 

His search grew more frantic. He cleared out all of the drawers, dumping their contents on the floor. It proved fruitless. He sat down in the middle of the floor, his head in his hands, and tried very hard not to weep. 

Eventually, he stood up. He put everything carefully away. He went to the washroom and looked in the mirror to make sure he was presentable. His face looked drawn, his eyes a little sunken. After all, he hadn't slept well last night. But other than that, he looked fine. Why shouldn't he? Everything was fine – just fine.


	6. Chapter 6

Garak didn't request sex for a week after their encounter in the infirmary. Every time he felt the familiar surge of desire, thoughts of the hypospray would come into his head. He still didn't know what to think. He could live with the idea that Julian had to drug himself to enjoy their encounters, even though the thought made him sad. It was the not knowing that was driving him mad. 

He tried to glean clues from Julian, but he remained a cipher. Normally, Garak was very skilled at determining the truth of a situation; years of experience as an interrogator had taught him how to recognize lies. But somehow, Julian eluded him entirely. Perhaps he was too close to the situation to see it properly. Or perhaps Julian was simply a very good liar. That didn't seem to fit with the guileless man he'd been when Garak first laid eyes on him – but then again, Julian was a different person now, wasn't he? The unguarded innocence that had so enticed Garak had vanished, replaced with a weary wariness – the same as every other Terran who passed through this awful place. 

If Julian thought that his lack of requests was unusual, he didn't show it. Other than the lack of sex, their days and evenings went on as usual. On the eighth day, however, their routine was interrupted. When Garak returned to his quarters after a long day, he was greeted with an unusual smell. The table was set for dinner; several condiments and a plate of bread of some kind were also set out, as well as a bottle of wine and two glasses of water.

Julian emerged from the kitchen, carrying two steaming dishes. “Good timing – I just finished,” he said, placing the dishes on the table.

“What is this?” Garak asked.

“It's dinner,” Julian said. “You know, the meal we eat in the evenings.”

“Yes, I can see that. Did you make this from scratch?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Julian shrugged. “I thought it might be a nice change of pace.” He sat down. 

Garak joined him warily. “This is Terran food, I take it?”

“One variety, yes. I was looking through those spices you bought a while ago, and I was surprised to find curry powder. Or at least that's what it smelled like. I didn't imagine that Terran spices would be considered luxury items.”

Garak warily watched Julian serve himself. This all seemed very suspicious. Julian must have noticed his reluctance, because he rolled his eyes and ate a spoonful from each dish. “So now that we've determined I'm not poisoning you, would you like some food?”

Garak felt a little embarrassed. He offered his plate, which Julian filled.

“I got the relishes and the bread from Rom,” Julian said in a more conversational tone. “They aren't Terran, exactly, but they're close enough. I had him charge it to your account – hope you don't mind.” He ripped off a piece of bread and used it to scoop up some of his food. “I learned to cook a little from my father. He fancied himself a chef for a while. It's too bad he dropped it; I actually think he was quite talented.”

It was the most information Julian had offered about himself without prompting. Garak's feeling of suspicion increased. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I'm sorry?”

“This is obviously some attempt to butter me up. So what shall it be this time, hmm? More reduction in working hours for the workers? Another break or three?”

Julian went silent. He pushed his food around on his plate. “I don't want anything,” he said eventually. “It's just that I'm tired of being angry all the time. I thought that maybe we could be a little kinder to one another, from time to time.” He trailed off. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

“No!” Garak said, frantically back-peddling. “No, that's not stupid – not at all! I think that's a lovely idea.” He scooped up some food and put it in his mouth. His lips immediately started to burn. The sensation only grew worse; he had to force himself not to spit it out. He grabbed his glass of water and gulped most of it down.

“It's too spicy, isn't it?” Julian said. “I knew I overdid it.”

Garak shook his head. “No, it's fine,” he choked out. “It just took me by surprise.”

And then something miraculous happened. Julian smiled – a very small, almost shy quirk of his lips. He reached across the table and spooned a glop of white stuff into Garak's dish. “This should calm it down a bit.” 

“Thank you,” he said. Julian smiled again. Garak felt a little dizzy. 

Julian was right; the dish was now edible, although why anyone would subject themselves to such pain for a meal was beyond him. Julian seemed to enjoy it, though. Perhaps Terran taste receptors were different. 

“Anna made her first diagnosis today,” Julian said after a little while. “We've been having trouble with Kim – that's one of the Terrans; she works on the second level, mostly. Perhaps you've seen her – she's got a scar on her cheek. Anyway, she was having this horrible fatigue – not that that's particularly unusual in these circumstances, but thanks to you, it's not so debilitating for most of the Terrans anymore. I had thought I'd run the right tests, but I've been so harried lately that I must have overlooked some results. She had a vitamin B12 decifiency, and Anna was the one who spotted it. Best of all, it's an easy fix. Kim should feel better in no time.” Julian took a sip of his drink. “How was your day?”

Garak could scarcely believe it. They were chatting – actually _chatting_ – about their day. He had given up hope that it was possible. “It was fine,” he said. “Better than fine, now.” 

Julian smiled again. “Good,” he said. He picked up the bottle of wine. “Would you care for a drink?” Garak nodded. Julian poured him a glass. 

“Aren't you going to have any?” Garak asked.

“I'm fighting a bit of a headache,” Julian said. “I don't think it would be a good idea.”

They ate for a little while. When Garak was just about to finish his glass of wine, Julian spoke up again. “I've started to hear rumors that an Intendant might be appointed soon. Is there any truth to it?”

“Some,” Garak admitted. “However, I still think we'll be all right. There's also been a push to privatize this station, in which case the government would stay off of Terok Nor permanently. Even if a new Intendant were to be appointed, the argument might keep him or her off the station for the foreseeable future. Hopefully, we're able to make our move before the issue is resolved.”

“Rom would like that,” Julian said. “He hates governments on general principle.” 

“You're talking politics with him now?”

“Yes. We're friends. I _am_ allowed to have friends, aren't I?”

“Of course you can have friends,” Garak said quickly. They were dangerously close to falling back into their usual bickering; he wanted to avoid that. “I'm sorry – I didn't mean to suggest otherwise.” 

“You know, instead of offering me apologies all the time, perhaps you can avoid doing things that require them.” He was smiling when he said it – a joke. 

“I can try,” Garak said as relief washed over him. So many smiles in so short a time – his heart threatened to flutter its way out of his chest. “I'm just puzzled why you would want to pursue a friendship with someone like that.”

“I will admit he's a little...mercenary. But he's not all bad. I suppose I like him because he reminds me so much of the Quark on my side. Besides, it's nice to talk to someone free. Slavery has a tendency to bog down lighter conversations.” His usual bitterness had crept back into his voice. He seemed to catch himself, however, because his tone was lighter the next time he spoke. “And he _is_ devastatingly attractive. That's the real reason you don't want me hanging around him, isn't it? You're afraid he'll steal me away.” 

Garak actually laughed. “Oh yes, that's it exactly.”

They passed the rest of the meal pleasantly. Their conversation was still a little awkward at times – they both struggled not to snipe at one another. But it was progress. Garak couldn't quite believe that it was happening. He searched Julian's face for deceit, but saw nothing but genuine effort to be more agreeable. 

When they finished eating, they migrated toward the bedroom. The room was large enough not only for a bed, but also a small sitting area by a window that offered a view of the stars. When Garak wasn't making demands on his time, Julian often sat here, looking at the window, lost in thought. Julian did so now, cradling a cup of Tarkalean tea. Garak had brought his wine with him (his third glass – he'd noticed he'd been drinking more than usual as of late. Perhaps he should cut back). He took off his armor before joining Julian on the sofa.

They sat in silence for a little while, with Julian gazing out the window, and Garak gazing at Julian. He was wearing a shirt that Garak had helped Trog's tailor design – one that echoed the uniform he'd worn when he'd arrived. Deep blue silk encased his shoulders, giving way to black that hugged his frame. The collar dipped in a deep _V_ ; his uniform had had a grey layer underneath, but this shirt had nothing else – only Julian's dusky skin, which had lost its golden glow. He had no more excursions to Bajor, after all – not even trips into the artificial sun of a holosuite. He knew only the dim lights of the station now. His hair, once the same rich brown as the chocolate that Terrans seemed to enjoy so much, had lost its shine, dulled by the thick smoke and grey ashes that poured out of the processing machines. The only part of him that retained its original luster were his eyes, which were still large and bright, still a swirl of greens and browns and golds that changed depending on where he was and what he wore. They were golden right now. He was sitting with one leg folded underneath him in enviable flexibility. Garak's own body hadn't been able to bend that way in years. 

Garak realized he had no idea what Julian's age was. “How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-seven.” 

Twenty-seven! That was just under half his own age. He had known Julian was younger, but hadn't appreciated how much. Garak noticed for the first time that there were a few flecks of grey hair at his temples. Had they been there when he'd arrived? Garak couldn't be sure. 

Garak pulled his eyes away from Julian and followed his gaze out the window. “What do you look at when you sit here?” he asked. 

Julian hesitated before he responded. “I was looking for the wormhole at first,” he finally said. “Do you see those two stars close together, right along the edge of Bajor's horizon?” he said, pointing. “That's where it would be.” He looked away from the window. “It won't come here, though. I'm certain of it now.” 

“How can you be so sure?”

“On the other side, the wormhole is home to a group of non-corporeal aliens. They appear to be the ones who control the wormhole, although to what extent, I'm not sure. The Bajorans worship them as gods. The wormhole is their celestial temple, the Bajorans say, and they are generous enough to share it with us.” 

Julian looked down at his tea, his fingers flexing over the smooth surface of the cup. “I don't know if they were responsible for sending me here, or if it was merely an accident. I can't even begin to guess the mechanism that made it possible in the first place. But if the aliens are responsible for whether or not the wormhole opens, and if they are subject to the same variations that I've observed in the other doubles of this reality, perhaps they aren't as inclined to share their temple.” He turned his gaze back out into the blackness. “Or maybe there are no gods here at all.” 

Julian looked so bleak in that moment. Garak wanted to do something, but what comfort could he offer? He was reminded once again that he was not his lover, truly. He wasn't even his friend. He was his jailor – and that was one of the kinder descriptions he could apply to himself. 

“I'm going to get another drink,” he muttered, and slunk away like a coward. 

Garak mixed himself a drink at the bar – something stronger than the wine. He was halfway finished with it by the time he made it back to Julian's side. Julian had set his empty tea cup aside. He'd brought his legs up to his chest as he continued to stare out the window. Garak should just leave him to his thoughts, but the liquor was coursing through him, making him just brave enough to continue their conversation. And besides – since when had Garak ever been able to leave Julian alone? 

He sat down beside Julian. “Do you think you could ever be happy in this universe?” 

Julian turned to look at him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“What if I let you go?” Garak asked in a voice so low he almost couldn't hear it himself. “Would you be happy then?”

Julian looked startled. He unfolded himself and leaned forward, his widened eyes darting back and forth as he searched Garak's face. “Let me go?” he echoed. “You would let me go?” 

Garak didn't answer, feeling just as surprised as Julian at his words. Julian continued to search him for another long moment, his whole body taut as if he were ready to dart from the room the moment Garak gave his assent. But then he deflated and turned his gaze back toward the stars. “I'm needed here,” he said. “Besides, Terrans are slaves everywhere, as you are so fond of reminding me. As long as that's true, there's little point in leaving. At least here I can do some good.” 

Garak stared at Julian in dumb shock. He recognized this moment – the moment when a Terran tumbled past the brink of despair and into a weary surrender, where they told the truth because it took too much effort to lie anymore. It seemed Garak had broken Julian at last. He should be pleased. Instead, he felt the urge to drop to his knees and beg for Julian's forgiveness. He finished his drink in one gulp; it burned the whole way down. 

He longed to bring Julian into his arms, but leaving him be for tonight was the very least he could do. He held on to his empty glass to keep his unruly hands occupied. “If there was any one thing from the other universe that you could have here, what would it be?” Garak asked, thinking that perhaps he could make Julian happy in a small way. 

He thought about it. “Kukalaka.”

“What's that?”

“My toy bear. I've had him since I was a child; he's been everywhere with me.” He was still gazing at the place where the wormhole would be. “I miss him.” He blinked his eyes rapidly, and then a tear dropped from one eye. He brushed it away in annoyance, as he would an insect that had landed on his cheek. Another tear was given the same treatment, but soon they started to come too quickly to brush away. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up. He sounded strangely polite, as if he were brushing past someone on a crowded street. He went to the washroom and shut the door. Moments later, Garak heard the shower running. 

Garak stumbled after him. He sank to the floor and rested his head on the shut door. The running water wasn't quite loud enough to completely drown out Julian's sobs. His heart felt like it would break in two – but at the same time, there was a noxious joy bubbling inside of him. He didn't have to worry about Julian trying to escape anymore. He was here for good.

Garak's last drink was finally hitting him, making him woozy and sick to his stomach. He retched a little, but managed not to vomit. The shower turned off, but Julian didn't emerge. At that point, Garak got himself together enough to get ready for bed – what else was there to do? He got undressed and stumbled into bed, hoping that the alcohol would ease him into sleep. Just as he was about to drift off, he heard Julian's bare feet padding against the floor. He got in under the covers. He expected Julian to go straight to sleep, but to his surprise, he wrapped his arms around Garak's waist and buried his face in his chest.

Garak was too shocked to return the embrace at first. He placed one hand awkwardly on Julian's back. His chest felt wet where Julian's face rested against it – was Julian crying again, or was it just water from the shower? Garak fully enveloped Julian in his arms, resting his cheek on Julian's head.  
They stayed in that position for what seemed like a long time. Garak thought that Julian had perhaps drifted off, but then he felt a kiss on his skin, right on the tear-shaped ridge in the center of his chest. Garak at first thought he must have imagined it, but Julian kissed him again, this time on his neck. 

Garak pulled back. Julian looked up at him, his eyes oddly bright. “Elim,” he breathed, and then he kissed him on his lips. After another shocked moment, Garak kissed him back. Things grew heated very quickly. Julian guided Garak's hand between his legs; he gasped against Garak's lips as he curled his hand around Julian's hardening cock. Garak's own cock was rubbing against Julian's hip, but he barely noticed it. All he wanted was to give Julian as much pleasure as he could. 

Julian's hands fluttered over Garak's ridges as Garak continued to stroke him, faster and faster. He was moaning now, but he didn't draw his lips away from Garak's for even a moment. He let out one last gasp – “ _Elim!_ ” – and then Garak felt a splash of wetness against his palm. 

Normally, Julian rolled away the moment sex was over. This time, however, he stayed where he was. He rested his head on Garak's chest. After a few minutes, his breathing slowed; Garak realized he was falling asleep. His own cock was still uncomfortably hard, but he didn't want to disturb Julian. Carefully, he pulled his wet hand away so that he could wipe it off on the sheet. 

He wrapped Julian in his arms and kissed his forehead. Julian hadn't called him 'Elim' in all of the months since his imprisonment. He felt a warm glow of satisfaction, but the feeling rapidly faded as another thought occurred to him. Which 'Elim' had he meant just now? 

He waited until Julian was fully asleep to extract himself. He tiptoed to the washroom. It only took a cursory look in the linen closet to find the hypospray, hidden half-heartedly under a towel. He picked it up and sat down on the toilet. It felt cool and heavy in his hand. Finding it meant nothing. Julian had said he'd had a headache earlier, and this was medicine for his headaches – a simple explanation. 

What was not as easy to explain was why Julian would weep so bitterly as he realized at last how trapped he was, but then throw himself into Garak's arms twenty minutes later, gasping his given name as he came in his hand.

He returned to bed. Once he was under the covers, he curled up behind Julian and wrapped his arms around him again. He buried his face in Julian's still-damp hair and wept – only a little, and very quietly. Julian was sleeping so deeply that he didn't even stir. It was just as well. 

* * * 

The next morning, Garak woke up to a raging headache and a cold, empty bed. Julian had left a while ago, it seemed. It was rare for Julian to wake up before him, but it seemed that Garak had overslept. He groggily got himself together and headed for work.

He pushed most of his duites off on Dukat and spent the morning shut in his office, nursing his headache over a hot raktajino. The previous night was still something of a blur. He couldn't believe he'd offered to set Julian free. What would he have done if Julian had tried to take him up on it? He felt a little sick to his stomach just thinking about it. His nausea increased as he thought about Julian's strange surrender and his discovery of the hypospray. He still didn't know what it meant. The only thing he was sure of was that things couldn't go on the way they were. It would drive both of them mad.

When lunchtime arrived, Garak went to the infirmary. Fortunately, Julian was there, and alone apart from Ranrak. Garak dismissed the Vulcan with a wave of his hand. Julian wouldn't even look at him, instead busying himself with other things. 

“Good afternoon,” Garak said eventually when it became clear that Julian wasn't going to start the conversation.

“What do you want?” 

Not an auspicious start, but Garak soldiered on. “I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me.”

“Is that an order or a request?” he asked coldly. 

Julian was done with being kind, it seemed. He'd hoped that at least some of the good will from the previous night had lingered, but apparently not. “It's a request,” he said.

“Then I decline.”

It wasn't exactly a surprise, given Julian's foul mood, but it still stung. “Why?”

“I've already eaten.” Julian picked up his case and headed for the door. Garak stepped in his way. Julian looked him in the eye for the first time that day. “So it's an order after all?” he asked with a sneer.

“No,” Garak said. “I just want to talk to you about something.”

“Let me guess – you want to fuck me tonight.”

Julian was putting them right back in their old roles, as if the previous night hadn't happened. Garak couldn't for the life of him figure out why he would want to do that, but he wasn't about to let him. “No. Not tonight. And not again, unless it's what you want.”

The look of shock on Julian's face was almost worth what Garak was giving up. “What do you mean?”

“I won't be making any more requests of you,” he said. “Well, except maybe to ask you to lunch every now and then,” he amended. “Which I hope you'll consider accepting.”

Julian just stood there, staring at him, for several moments. “You don't want sex from me anymore?” he finally asked, still clearly bewildered. 

“I didn't say that,” Garak said. “I just said I would stop asking.”

Julian set his case down. “Where will I live?” he asked. 

“With me, of course.”

“But you won't ask me for sex.”

“No,” Garak said patiently.

“What about the Terrans?” he asked, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. “You aren't going to set things back to how they were, are you? I've done everything you've asked me – you can't change things now!” 

Garak put a hand gently on his arm. “Julian,” he said. “It's all right. Nothing else will change. I simply thought that we could be a little kinder to one another, as you said.”

It seemed he had finally gotten through to him. Julian managed a small nod. “All right,” he said. 

Garak ventured a small smile. “Are you still sure about lunch?”

“Yes,” Julian said. He picked up his case again. “You're still in my way.”

“Of course,” Garak mumbled, stepping aside. 

Julian walked a few steps past him, then stopped. “But I'll see you tonight for dinner,” he said without looking back. And then he was gone. 

Garak walked back to his office in a daze. He couldn't quite believe what he had done. But it was the right thing – he was _sure_ it was the right thing. And perhaps – perhaps things would be different now. It was still a foolish dream, but Garak felt for the first time that it might not be impossible. 

* * * 

After that, things between them began to change. It didn't happen right away. The intimacy of that heart-breaking night had seemingly vanished, for Julian treated him with an almost formal politeness. In the first two weeks, Garak didn't receive so much as a kiss. Having Julian so close and yet untouchable was agony, but Garak gritted his teeth and bore it. 

His patience was rewarded. Gradually, Julian became warmer. Julian's politeness shifted to something very close to affection. They had actual conversations in the evenings – sometimes light-hearted, sometimes intimate, always enjoyable. Finally, a month after Garak had released Julian from their deal, Julian let Garak embrace him. They lay together on the sofa, exchanging deep, slow kisses and soft caresses. Julian stopped before things got really heated, which frustrated Garak at first. But gradually, he came to appreciate the slowness of their new arrangement – the exquisite ache, the sweet anticipation of what was surely to come. And with Julian controlling the pace, he was able to put thoughts of Julian drugging himself aside.

Their relationship wasn't perfect. Sometimes Julian would withdraw his affections suddenly, reverting back to treating Garak coldly. These mood swings seemed to come without warning. When that happened, Garak couldn't think of anything other than regaining Julian's favor. Just when he thought he couldn't bear it any longer, his Julian would return to him, and everything would be wonderful again. 

In spite of these occasional disturbances, Garak felt an overall happiness that he'd never experienced before. He started his mornings with eager anticipation for the day, instead of steeling himself for battles he'd have to fight. Pain had been a constant in his life – he'd either felt it or caused it somehow. Its presence had been as natural to him as breathing, and its sudden absence from his life was astounding. He didn't know it was possible to live this way. He never wanted it to end. 

Of course, there were some minor annoyances that marred his blissful state. Production, for one, was down. He didn't care particularly, since the Alliance would hopefully seize the station soon, but any drop in production was bound to gain unwanted attention from the money-minded Bajorans. Which was another thing – it was looking more and more likely that a new Intendant would be appointed soon. If the Bajoran government reestablished their presence before measures for an invasion had at least started to be implemented, it could compromise the whole project. And if Garak lost control of the way the station was run, he'd risk losing Julian.

He was also disturbed by news of Captain Sisko and the Major. Instead of disappearing into obscurity as Garak had hoped, they seemed to be thriving. It was rumored they had set up a base of operations in the Badlands – not simply as a pirating organization, but as the beginning of a Terran rebellion. Garak had thought that Sisko was more interested in self-preservation than that, but perhaps the revolutionary-minded Major had persuaded him otherwise. It was also rumored that they were lovers now. Of course, they were very far away. And the probability of a wide-scale Terran rebellion seemed laughably small. 

But these were minor smudges on his happiness. He wasn't about to let them ruin what he had. Garak was nothing if not tenacious. He would not let this slip from his hands. He'd bent the universe to his desires before, and he wasn't about to let up now. 

* * * 

The funny thing about happiness was how it seemed to eat up time in a way that sorrow never did. Before Garak knew it, ten weeks had elapsed. He was feeling cautiously optimistic; production had improved slightly. The Alliance made several strikes on Terran pirate ships, which in turn seemed to quash the rumors of a possible rebellion. 

The situation with the new Intendant also seemed more under control. Using both his seedy contacts on Bajor and his own influence with certain Bajoran bureaucrats and businessmen, he sowed rumors and stoked arguments over the privatization of the station. It was working so well that Regent Worf himself contacted Garak to discuss strategies for further undermining Bajoran stability with indirect tactics; he called Garak his slippery _qua'lach_ , which was Klingon for eel, apparently. He assured Garak that he would begin to slowly send more Alliance troops to the station, as soon as the rebellion on Betazed was under control. 

All in all, he was very pleased with himself. He was in such a perpetual good mood that even the appearance of Telok's sour face in his office one afternoon didn't bother him. Relations remained chilly between them – even more so after the Regent took a liking to Garak. 

“Sir, I have a need to speak with you,” Telok said.

Garak could tell this wasn't going to be a quick discussion over a minor issue. He sighed inwardly. He'd hoped to cut out of the office early; Julian had promised him a surprise when he got home. “Come in and shut the door, then.”

Telok did so. He approached Garak with two padds. “And what are these?” Garak asked.

“The first contains manifests of shipments to and from Rom's,” he said. “I've highlighted the numerous inconsistencies in what he claims to be shipping and receiving, and the actual quantity and weights of his shipments. As you can see, the differences are staggering.”

Garak scrolled through the padd for a moment. It did seem off, but he wasn't prepared to admit it right away. “I think 'staggering' is a bit of an exaggeration,” he said. “It looks more like sloppy record-keeping.”

“Do you not think that it merits some investigation?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Well, what are your suspicions?” he asked.

“He's smuggling something, either into or out of the station.”

“Like what?”

“I do not know!” Telok said with obvious frustration. “Which is why we need to investigate.”

“What would you have me do? Stage a raid? After the invasion, we are going to need non-Bajorans on the station who can help stabilize things as quickly as possible. Having an established business on the station will aid in that immensely.” Also, it would cause no end of trouble with Julian. He wasn't about to tell Telok that, however.

Telok looked upset, but he pressed on. “The other is a record of subspace static, collected over a period of months.”

“Why would I be interested in static?”

“As you can see, I have outlined certain patterns I've observed.”

“So?”

“There should not be patterns in static! They are encrypted messages.”

A sick feeling began to settle in the pit of Garak's stomach. “If these are indeed messages, who do you think is sending them? And to what purpose?”

“I do not know for certain. But you have surely heard rumors of the Terrans in the Badlands. What if they have contacts on this station?”

Garak looked through the padd for a long time. “I think that you are being overly cautious. I don't see any compelling evidence that this is any more than random static. Why did you go looking in the first place?”

“The mood on this station has changed. The Terrans no longer live in fear.”

“Have they been disobedient?”

“No,” Telok admitted.

“Have they not, in fact, been even more well-behaved than ever before?”

“It is a ploy to lure us into a false sense of security!”

“You are going to have to do better than static and poor record-keeping to convince me of that,” Garak said, although a sense of foreboding was starting to settle over him. 

“That is what I am proposing – that we search for more compelling evidence. Why will you not grant me the permission to do so?”

“I will allow a search of Rom's bar,” Garak said at last. “But we will do so respectfully. Will that satisfy you?”

“We need to also begin interrogations of the Terrans.”

“Out of the question,” Garak said. “That would undo the changes I've spent months implementing. I will not go back to a system that engenders disobedience and invites rebellion.”

“That is a lie!” Telok roared. “You will not do these things because of your whore!”

Garak stood up slowly. “You are on very unsteady ground,” Garak said with cold rage. “I would chose my next words very carefully if I were you.”

“It is the truth,” Telok said. “You fool no one when you say these changes were your own decisions. He is manipulating you! Are you so blinded by lust that you cannot see it?”

“I assure you, I am in perfect control. The Regent himself has commended me on my work here.”

“The Regent doesn't see what I see. And I have not spoken of this to him, out of respect for the years we have served together.” 

“Are you threatening me?”

“No,” Telok said, no longer shouting. “I am _imploring_ you. I believe you could be a great man – it is why I aided you when the Intendant was in power. This Terran has poisoned your mind and your spirit – cast him aside before it is too late.”

“I have heard enough from you!” Garak said, unable to suppress his anger any longer. “I will choose to believe that you are merely misguided and not mutinous, so I will not order you to be thrown in the brig. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.” 

A strange look passed over Telok's face. He was still angry, yes, but a sadness seemed to come over him as well. “I have tried my best,” he said, almost to himself.

“OUT!” Garak shouted. He finally left. 

It took several long minutes before Garak gained control of his rage. His hands, however, would not stop shaking. Could Telok be right? Were Rom and Julian plotting with the Terran rebels?

Garak was sure that Julian meant it when he said he wouldn't leave. That, at least, he knew was the truth. But how had he put it? Garak racked his mind. _I'm needed here._ That's what he'd said. Garak assumed he meant he was needed as a doctor. Could he have really meant something else? 

What else had he said? _Terrans are slaves everywhere, as you are so fond of reminding me. As long as that's true, there's little point in leaving._ What if Terrans were no longer slaves?

Garak felt ill. He tore his desk apart until he found the padd with records of his account with Rom. Over the past few weeks, Julian had begun to buy things for himself using Garak's latinum. Garak had given his blessing to these purchases – he enjoyed the idea of spoiling Julian, and he was pleased that Julian seemed to finally appreciate his wealth. He had so much money that he hadn't even bothered to look the purchases over before authorizing them. Now that he looked at it, he saw that Rom had been charging him outrageous prices for all of Julian's little desires. Julian was giving Rom a steady stream of his latinum.

The sick feeling only grew worse. Garak took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He glanced at the time – it was late enough that Julian might be home already, and if he wasn't, Garak would summon him. He was terrified of what he might find – but he had to know the truth.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight! My outline has entered what I think is its final revision, and if things go according to plan, Chapter Eleven will be the last. 
> 
> I wanted to thank everyone who's left comments and/or kudos - it really means a lot to me! (Seriously, I read every comment I get like twenty times.) The action's about to really heat up - I hope you all enjoy!

When Garak walked into his quarters, the smells wafting from the kitchen told him that Julian was home. He found Julian in the midst of a messy culinary adventure – he was pouring a thick liquid onto a hot pan in spoonfuls, not looking particularly confident. He looked up from his work when Garak entered the room. “Oh! You're home early. So much for my surprise. Here – ” he said, thrusting a bowl into his hands. “Stir this.”

Garak accepted the bowl. “What is it?”

“Pancake batter,” he said as he returned to the stove. “I'm not sure if this batch is going to work out, so I thought I'd make some more. Don't stir it _too_ much – I think it's supposed to be a little lumpy.” He took a spatula and poked at one of the circles of batter on the pan. “My first roommate at the Academy used to make things like this all the time. I remembered his cookie recipe well enough, but I'm not so sure my recall on this recipe was as good. I couldn't help but try, though – one of the new vendors on the Promenade just got in the most amazing blueberries and I had to do _something_ with them.” 

Garak stopped stirring and put the bowl down, harder than he had intended. The loud thump caught Julian's attention. “Are you all right?” he said, peering at Garak. “You seem upset.”

“I ran into a little bit of trouble today,” he said, managing to keep a neutral expression. 

“Oh?” Julian said, turning back to his pancakes. “What sort of trouble?”

“Telok came to see me. He believes that Rom is involved in a smuggling scheme.”

Julian didn't respond. His back was to Garak, so he couldn't read his expression. “Did you hear what I said?” Garak asked when Julian still hadn't said anything.

“Hmm?” Julian said. “I'm sorry, these require a bit of concentration – damn, I've burned them. So much for this batch.” He turned around. “Smuggling, you said? That wouldn't surprise me. The Quark on my side was always dabbling in crazy schemes – why he couldn't stick to legitimate profits, I'll never know.”

Julian reached out for the bowl Garak had set down. Garak grabbed him by the wrist before he could pick it up. “Is this a new ring?” he said.

Julian blinked at him, concern creeping into his expression. “Oh. Yes – do you like it?”

“How much did it cost?”

“I – I don't know,” Julian said. “I never ask. Was it too expensive?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Garak said. “It came at a high price – very high.”

The look of concern on Julian's face grew more intense. “I'm sorry,” he said faintly. “I'm awful with money – Terrans don't really use it in the other universe.” Julian tried to pull his hand away, but Garak held it fast. He could feel the fine bones in Julian's wrist grinding together – with the right application of pressure, he could break it. The sick feeling he'd had when he first spoke to Telok had subsided; now adrenaline was coursing through him, making his heart pound in his chest. He was angry, yes, but he also felt exhilarated. It was a familiar feeling – it's what he felt back when he used to interrogate prisoners. It used to be his only pleasure. 

“Telok had some other news as well,” he continued. “He believes that there have been secret transmissions sent from this station. They're hidden in subspace static – quite clever, don't you think?” He squeezed his wrist a little harder. “Have you heard that your Kira and Captain Sisko have set themselves up in the Badlands? I thought they would have the good sense to lie low, but apparently not. It seems they're starting an army. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

There was a very brief moment when Julian looked terrified, but it was gone in a flash. His eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing me of something?” he said icily. 

His anger surprised Garak a little. “Should I be?”

“The Badlands are a haven for criminals because of the plasma storms, if I'm not mistaken. Those plasma storms would make any communication from this distance impossible, subspace or otherwise. Hypothetically speaking, of course – I wouldn't know since I've never tried it.”

Garak hadn't thought of that. His grip loosened a little. Julian pulled his hand free. He glared at Garak as he rubbed his wrist. “Any other accusations you want to run by me?”

“I didn't accuse you,” Garak said. He kept his tone cool, although inwardly he felt off-balance. 

“Oh, of course not,” Julian said with sarcasm. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his expression was milder. “I think that maybe Telok is feeling threatened. You two used to be close, didn't you? And now you're in with the Regent, and he's out in the cold. You've made Dukat your second-in-command. His career is in jeopardy. And I know for a fact that he hates me.”

“We may have had a falling out, but Telok is an honorable man. He wouldn't invent accusations.” 

“Maybe he isn't inventing them – at least not consciously. And really, how honorable is he? Wasn't the basis of your relationship trying to overthrown the Intendant?”

He had a point. Garak frowned – had he been wrong again? 

“As for Rom – like I said, it wouldn't surprise me if he was trying to pull one over on you, but it certainly has nothing to do with me; we're friends, yes, but Rom's one true love is profit. He wouldn't risk even a single slip of latinum for my sake. And yes, he probably is gouging you over my purchases. I'm sorry I didn't pay closer attention. I can return the ring if you want.”

Garak shook his head. He took Julian's hand again – gently this time – and kissed it. “Keep it,” he said. He noticed a fine tremor in Julian's hand. “You're shaking,” he said. “Why?”

“Because you just scared the wits out of me!” 

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

Julian sighed, but he looked less angry. “You've got something on your nose,” he said.

“I do?”

Julian reached into the bowl and smeared his nose with a big dollop of batter. “Serves you right,” he said. He was smiling.

And just like that, things were back to normal. They ate pancakes together as Julian told him funny stories about his old roommates. After dinner, Julian read him some a few lovely Terran nature poems as Garak sipped a glass of sweet Bajoran wine. Before bed, they took a bath together. Julian let Garak pull him into his lap; he moaned in pleasure as Garak brought them both to completion with his soapy hand. Afterward, they snuggled in bed, Julian drifting off into sleep as if he had not a care in the world.

But the off-kilter feeling Garak had refused to leave him. The constant back and forth between his suspicion and trust left him feeling like he was balancing on a rocky ledge. One day, he knew he would slip, and then it would all be over. But would the slip be trusting Julian, or would it be letting false doubts consume him? He didn't know.

And there was something even more troubling. There was a part of him – very deep down in the darkest corner of his soul – that was almost disappointed that Julian explained himself so well. For one brief moment, when he'd had Julian's wrist in his hand and Julian looked at him with real fear, he at last felt in control again. In spite of the joy of the life they now had together, Garak missed that feeling of power. And that frightened him more than any thought of Julian's deceit ever could.

* * * 

The next day, Garak paid Rom a visit early in the morning, before the bar opened. Julian made him promise not to be too hard on him. It was just as well – as much as he longed to rake Rom across the coals, he knew it wouldn't be prudent. He'd meant what he said to Telok about keeping non-Bajoran businesses on the station. Besides, if Rom was up to something truly nefarious, he didn't want to play his hand too soon. He selected four soldiers – two Cardassian, two Klingon – and instructed them to discreetly search for anything that seemed suspicious. He told Rom that they were having a resurgence of Cardassian voles and needed to inspect the bar for possible nests. 

The search took an hour to complete. Garak waited at the bar, enjoying the complementary beverages that Rom provided. He observed Rom carefully; he seemed to be going about his business as usual, although his chatter had a forced quality to it. That didn't necessarily mean anything; even an innocent person would be nervous at having his business turned upside down. 

The soldiers finished at last. One handed him a padd with the results of their findings. They'd found nothing out of the ordinary. 

“So, how did we do?” Rom asked. “No voles, I hope?”

“It looks like you're clean,” Garak said. Rom breathed a sigh of relief that was a little too loud for Garak's taste, so he added: “If it's all the same to you, I wouldn't mind taking a brief look myself. Voles are tricky creatures. They can hide where you least expect them – sometimes even in plain sight.”

“Of course,” Rom said. “Allow me to show you the way.”

They went through each of Rom's store rooms, the whores' quarters, and all three levels of the bar. Garak confirmed his soldiers' reports – everything did seem to be in order. He was surprised to find that he felt a little disappointed. 

Just as he was about to leave, he noticed something – one of the holosuites was on. “Someone's running a program? Aren't you closed?”

Rom looked over at the offending room. “That? Oh, it's nothing – just a malfunction. The thing hasn't been running right since I got here. It turns on and off at random.”

“Isn't that expensive?” Garak asked. “I know it costs money to run, not to mention the lost revenue.”

Rom waived his hands dismissively. “Not really – just a little latinum here and there.”

“You surprise me, Rom,” Garak said. “I thought you the sort who doesn't let a slip of latinum go to waste.”

“You're right as usual,” Rom said. “But the thing of it is – ah, yes, it would cost me more to repair it at this point. I'll get to it when business picks up.”

Something definitely was not right. “I have a Terran who is a genius with this sort of thing,” Garak said. “I would be happy to have him fix it for free.”

“That's so generous of you,” Rom said. He didn't sound enthused. “You can send him to me later.”

“How about I send for him now?” Garak said. “There's no time like the present.”

“Right again,” Rom said. His lips were pulled back in what might have been a grin.

Garak had one of his soldiers fetch O'Brien from the processing center. He arrived shortly after, a toolkit in tow. “You wanted to see me, sir?” O'Brien mumbled, his gaze cast respectfully downward.

“This holosuite is malfunctioning. I would like you to repair it, if you can.”

O'Brien lifted his head, looking back and forth between Garak and Rom for a moment. “What trouble are you having with it, sir?” he asked Rom.

“Ah – well, it goes on and off at random. I need it to stay on when I want it on, and off when I want it off.” 

O'Brien started towards the control panel, but Rom stopped him. “And be careful!” he said, flailing his hands around strangely in sudden agitation. “If you break it completely, I'll buy you from the Gul just so I can give you a good beating! Do you understand?”

O'Brien gave him a slow nod. “Yes, sir.”

Garak and Rom stood around awkwardly while O'Brien finished his work. It only took about ten minutes. “Fixed, sir,” O'Brien said. “It should do just what you want it to do now.”

“Shall we take a look?” Garak asked. He barged into the suite, not waiting for Rom to answer.

It seemed to be a typical holosuite. Garak looked around carefully; all of the panels and machinery looked normal. There was nothing else in the room. 

“Well!” Rom said cheerily. “Seems like things are back up and running. Thank you _so_ much, Gul. I'd like to offer you a free holosuite program in thanks.”

“That's very generous of you,” Garak said flatly. He'd been so sure there was something wrong. 

He dismissed O'Brien and his soldiers. He allowed Rom to escort him out of the bar. “Thank you so much again for your assistance,” Rom said. “And now, if you don't mind, I need to get ready to open.” He was definitely grinning now, his whole body released from the tension he'd held for the rest of the inspection.

“There is one more thing,” Garak said. 

Rom tensed. “Yes?”

“It's come to my attention that you've been taking advantage of Julian,” he said. “The prices you've been charging for his purchases are outrageous.”

“Julian's tastes are very refined, and luxury is hard to come by, this far out from civilization. But for you, I will gladly offer a ten percent discount,” he added quickly. 

“Thirty percent would be better,” Garak said.

“Of course,” Rom muttered, clearly unhappy. That, at least, seemed in character.

He stopped briefly by the infirmary to say good morning to Julian, then went to his office. He'd just gotten started on reviewing reports when Dukat entered. “Good morning, sir,” he said. He didn't sound his usual jovial self. “There's something I need to talk to you about.”

“Go on, then,” Garak said, hoping it wouldn't take too long.

Dukat took a seat in front of Garak's desk. “It's my mother. I had word last night that she's in the hospital. She's not likely to make it. I'm going to take my leave to see her, one last time.”

Garak sighed; it was inconvenient, but he couldn't very well deny his request. “Fine. How long will you be gone?”

“I'm not sure, sir. A few weeks, perhaps? I suppose it depends on her.”

“When do you plan on leaving?”

“There's a freighter that leaves for Cardassia this afternoon; I thought I could catch a ride with them.”

“Yes, fine,” Garak said. “Let's hope her suffering ends quickly. You're needed here, you know.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Dukat stood up to leave, but then he paused. “Anna will be all right while I'm gone, won't she?”

“Of all the stupid questions – why ever wouldn't she be?”

“No reason. It's just...she's young. Prone to mistakes, as we all are in our youth. But in the end, she is an innocent – wouldn't you agree?”

Garak snorted. “She's a Consort – 'innocent' isn't the term I'd use to describe her.”

“Then you'd be wrong. She _is_ innocent.”

It was the first time Dukat had ever spoken back to him. Garak hadn't thought him capable of it. “Well, you can put your mind at ease,” he said, annoyed. “I'll make sure no one fucks your whore while your gone.”

“She's not a whore,” Dukat said tightly. “She's left that life behind.”

“And I suppose she's sleeping with you because you two are so very desperately in love?”

“I haven't touched her, as I've told you,” he said. “I'm going to marry her.”

Garak burst out laughing. Dukat just stood there, quivering with rage. Garak had never seen him look so angry. It was fascinating, in a way. “Oh Dukat. You really are a fool, aren't you? The Alliance won't recognize your marriage.”

“We'll be married by a Terran priest – that's all that matters to her.”

“Do you really think I could allow such a thing?”

“Why not? Isn't that what you're doing?”

He had a point, but Garak wasn't about to concede it. “I haven't married Julian, have I? Even if your marriage to Anna wasn't legally recognized, it would still symbolically lift her to your status. Surely you can see how that would be problematic.”

Dukat took a deep breath. When he spoke again, it was more measured. “You're right, of course. Thank you, sir – you've just made things crystal clear for me.” He thrust his hand out in front of Garak.

Garak stared at it. “What are you doing?”

“I'm offering you a handshake. It's a Terran ritual,” he said. “The Terrans have some lovely customs, I've discovered. Put your hand in mine.”

Dukat seemed insistent, so Garak did as he asked. Dukat moved his hand up and down. “Goodbye, sir,” he said. “Best of luck to you.”

Garak fought the urge to roll his eyes. “We'll manage without you, I'm sure.”

The rest of the day passed without incident. When Garak returned to his quarters, Julian had still not arrived. That was slightly unusual, but not unheard of. Garak changed out of his armor into something more comfortable, then poured himself a glass of kanar. He was going to replicate a meal for them, but then he decided he might try his hand at cooking. It wasn't as if he'd never prepared food for himself – although his previous efforts were more to gain the maximum amount of nutrition with minimal effort, not creating a culinary experience. Still, it couldn't be too hard. He looked up a recipe on his padd and set to work.

It was harder than it looked and took him twice as long as he'd imagined. His efforts were at least edible, but not much more. He smiled a little to himself; Julian would probably have a good laugh at his expense. He checked the time again; Julian really ought to have been home by now. He decided to give him a few more minutes. He set the table. Still, no Julian. He tapped his comm badge to hail him, but there was no response. An uneasy feeling began to creep over him. 

Just then, Garak himself was hailed. “Infirmary to Gul Garak.” The voice was young and female. Anna, he presumed. 

“Yes?”

“You need to come down here, sir. Dr. Julian's just been brought in. Something's happened.”

“What do you mean? What's happened?” But she didn't respond.

He flew out the door and sprinted down the corridors. It couldn't have taken him long, but it felt like an eternity. He burst into the infirmary, frantically searching until he found Julian laid out on one of the beds in the back. Garak rushed to his side. There was a device strapped to his head. He was breathing, but barely – each breath was too shallow, too far apart. 

Anna was standing by a second bed, which held another figure. The body was covered by a surgical hood and the face was obscured, so Garak couldn't tell who it was. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You must see to Julian!” 

“I have, sir,” she said, her voice as quiet as always, but no longer meek. "He's stable for the moment. I need to finish treating Ranrak – he's been stabbed.”

“Forget him!” Garak roared. “I command you see to Julian at once!” 

She didn't look up from her work. “I will, sir, but I must finish here – and I can't do anything for Dr. Julian until the computer finishes the tox screen.”

“Tox screen?” He looked down at Julian. His eyes were half-shut, his mouth slack. The color had drained from his face. Thoughts of the hypospray flashed through his head. Was it an overdose? “Julian,” he said, cupping his face in his hand. His skin was cool to the touch. “Julian – wake up, please wake up, please – ” He started to weep.

Anna left Ranrak's side, presumably finished with whatever she was doing. After glancing at the console, she took a hypospray from a drawer and filled it. “Excuse me, sir,” she said. Garak obediently moved aside. She pressed the hypospray to Julian's neck. After a second, he jolted upright as he sucked in a deep, wheezing breath. He crashed back to the table and started to cough, the force of it so strong that his whole body jerked.

Relief flooded through Garak – he was alive at the very least. He took Julian's hand in his own as he continued to be racked by coughs. Color began to return to Julian's face, but his eyes remained half shut. When the coughs at last grew weaker, Garak turned to Anna. “Was it – was it an overdose?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. He was poisoned.”

“ _Poisoned_? With what?”

“Voraxna. I gave him the antitoxin – he should be all right now.”

“He doesn't look all right,” Garak said. “He's shaking.” It was true – his whole body was racked with tremors. 

“Get a blanket from the drawer there,” Anna said as she returned to the terminal. “We need to get his body temperature up.” 

Garak did as he was told. He put the shining thermal blanket over Julian, tucking it in tightly. “It will be all right,” Garak said. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Julian or himself. “Everything will be all right.” He found himself weeping again. 

Anna returned with another hypospray. She pressed it to Julian's neck; the tremors stopped. She pressed a button on the device on his head and squinted at it for a moment. “He's stabilizing,” she said. 

“He's be all right, then?”

“Yes, sir.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “But he does need rest.”

He allowed her to steer him to a chair. He sat there for several minutes, staring numbly at the floor, waiting for heart to stop racing. Finally, he gathered his wits enough to speak again. “I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

“Dr. Julian left for his quarters about thirty minutes ago. About twenty minutes after he left, four Terrans came to the infirmary, carrying both him and Ranrak. They said they'd found them in one of the corridors in the habitat ring. Dr. Julian was unconscious, and Ranrak had been stabbed in the back.” 

“And where is Dr. Neeltris?”

Anna shrugged. “I don't know. He doesn't come in very often.”

Garak noticed a knife laying on a tray. He picked it up. “This was the weapon you found in Ranrak?” he asked. Anna nodded. Garak examined it. 

It was a Klingon knife.

A cold fury came over him. He gripped the handle of the blade tightly in one fist. “Alert me if there's any change in Julian's condition,” he told Anna. “I will return shortly – there's something I must take care of.”

He returned to his quarters and put his armor back on. After he was dressed, he opened his weapons locker and took out his bat'leth; he strapped it to his back. He wiped the green Vulcan blood from the Klingon blade and holstered it as well. He didn't take a phaser – he wasn't going to need it. 

Once he was prepared, he asked the computer to locate Telok. He was at the Klingon bar that had recently opened on the promenade. Good. He wanted witnesses. Even with as furious as he was, he knew he had to approach the situation correctly to avoid shooting himself in the foot. 

The dimly lit bar was crowded with Klingon soldiers, making the sort of raucous noise Klingons made when they were enjoying themselves. Telok was sitting at a table in the center of the room. Compared to the rest of the Klingons, he was subdued – somber and somewhat distracted. Telok didn't notice his presence until he stabbed the knife into the table in front of him, lodging it into the wood. The din of noise abruptly quieted as the soldiers turned their attention to Garak.

Telok gave him a startled look. “What is this?”

“A blade that one of your men seems to have misplaced,” Garak said. “Tell me who it belongs to.”

Telok gave him a long, wary look before he turned his attention to the blade. He pulled it out of the table and examined the handle. “This has the mark of the Rudras family.” He looked up. “Turmal! Are you here?”

An awkward young Klingon pushed his way to the front. Garak recognized him as the young soldier whose incompetence allowed Julian and the Major escape so many months before. “Yes, sir?”

“Is this your blade?”

Turmal gave them both an extremely nervous look. He accepted the knife and examined it. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice quivering. 

Telok took the blade back and handed it to Garak. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” Garak said. He turned the blade over in his hand for a moment. Then, without warning, he plunged it into Turmal's neck. Red blood spurted from the wound, spraying Garak and the table and Telok himself. 

The bar erupted into chaos – the Klingon's roars and the sounds of weapons being drawn filled the room. Garak had his own bat'leth drawn before the boy's body hit the floor. Telok jumped up from his seat with a roar of his own. “What is the meaning of this?!” 

“That blade was found in the back of my Vulcan slave!” Garak shouted in a voice loud enough to carry over the rest of the noise. “He was found next to death in a corridor – and beside him was Julian, poisoned.”

“So the whore is dead?”

“Not dead, no – and for that, you should thank your gods, because I will be satisfied with your quick death in battle instead of a prolonged demise from torture!”

“And you dare to accuse me? You dare to kill one of my men!?” Someone threw a bat'leth to Telok, who caught it easily. Garak attacked him as soon as he was armed; the other Klingons scattered to make room for them. Telok met his blow, locking their blades together. 

Their faces were inches a part as they struggled to throw one another back. “You demanded only yesterday that I get rid of him, and the next day someone injects him with poison?” Garak said. “Do you think I'm stupid?” With a burst of strength, he sent Telok crashing backward. 

“I ordered no such thing!” Telok said. “You are being deceived!”

“Don't talk to me of deceit – you plotted for years with me behind the Intendant's back, too cowardly to strike directly. And now you're doing the same to me!”

“ _Cowardly?_ I was only following your orders, out of loyalty to you. That makes you the coward, not me!”

“Yes, but I'm a Cardassian. Everyone knows we don't play fair.”

Garak attacked again. Telok met him blow for blow and even managed to score a few wounds, but Garak's anger gave him the advantage. Their fight spilled out of the bar and onto the Promenade, drawing further spectators. Telok was no match for his fury – Garak soon had him laid out on the ground and disarmed, his blade skittering across the floor. Garak held his bat'leth to Telok's throat. 

Telok looked up at him, his gaze steady. “I swear I did not do this,” he said. “It is another trick by that slut; he is a viper in your bed – ”

Garak snarled and slashed his throat, so deep that it nearly severed his head from his body. Everyone fell silent, waiting to see what Garak would do. He simply stood there for a long moment, his breath heaving in and out of his chest. Finally, he reholstered his bat'leth and turned to one of the Klingons. “Take care of him and the other one,” he said. “Perform your rites. And we will discuss what comes next tomorrow.” The Klingon nodded solemnly; he gestured to a few others, and they collected Telok's body. Garak knew they would not retaliate. He had beaten Telok fairly in honorable combat. Klingons respected that. He was counting on that being enough for the Regent, but that was a much dicier matter. 

He turned his gaze to the rest of the spectators. “Well? Get on with your business!” he shouted. “This matter is concluded.” Everyone scattered. 

Garak stumbled his way back to the infirmary. He felt almost drunk with adrenaline – he knew he was wounded, but he barely felt it. His armor had protected him for the most part, but Telok had managed to slice into his arms a couple of times; he also had a minor cut on his cheek. 

When he arrived in the infirmary, he looked first to Julian. He was awake, the head of the bed raised so that he was sitting upright. Garak hurried to his side, taking his hand and kissing it. “Julian,” he breathed. “Oh my Julian – you're all right.”

Julian looked up at him with wide eyes. “What happened to you?” he said, his voice raspy. 

Garak started to answer, but he all of a sudden felt dizzy. Anna was there beside him, preventing him from stumbling. “You're hurt, sir,” she said, her voice as gentle as her touch. “Can I see to your wounds?”

Garak assented with a grunt. She helped him remove his weapons, armor and shirt, then led him to a chair. Once he was seated, she took some sterile cloths and ointment from a drawer and began to clean his wounds. Garak felt a twinge of guilt about the way he'd spoken of her to Dukat. 

He shut his eyes and let out a long sigh as Anna finished her work. When she was finished cleaning his wounds, she brought out a medical instrument and started to heal them. Once that was done, Garak felt marginally better. He opened his eyes to find Julian peering at him intensely. He looked much better than earlier, but he still was pale and drawn. “Please, Elim,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

“I assume Anna told you how you came to be here,” he said. Julian nodded. “The knife used to stab Ranrak was Klingon. It was a plot by Telok to get rid of you once and for all. I believe that one of his men was supposed to inject you, but then Ranrak surprised him. He must have stabbed him in order to make his escape.”

“And you confronted Telok about this.”

“You could say that.”

“What did he say?”

“He denied it, of course. He gave up the fool who did the deed – probably hoping to deflect blame.”

“What do you mean?” Julian said, looking alarmed. “How did you know who did it?”

“The knife was marked with the owner's family name. It belonged to that young Klingon – Turmal was his name.”

“What do you mean, 'was?'” 

“He's dead now. I killed him.”

Julian put a hand over his mouth and shut his eyes for a moment. “Turmal was just a boy,” he said after he'd collected himself. “He wasn't like the other Klingons.”

“Well, apparently he had you fooled.”

Julian opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but he shut it again. “I suppose you're right,” he said after a moment. “And what happened after that?”

“Telok and I fought. I won. And now he's dead, too.” 

Julian nodded, almost to himself. He looked as if he were fighting back tears. Garak felt a surge of tenderness – his gentle Julian, mourning even for the monsters who had tried to destroy him. Once Anna was finished healing his wounds, Garak returned to Julian's side. “Don't blame yourself for this,” he said. “They brought it on themselves.”

“Will this drive a wedge between you and the Klingons?”

“Perhaps. I made sure to combat Telok honorably – hopefully that will minimize the damage.” Garak cupped Julian's face in his hand. “But let me worry about that.” He leaned down and captured Julian's mouth with his own. Julian parted his lips and let Garak deepen the kiss; by the time Garak pulled back, he was panting. “I will never let anything happen to you,” he said with passion. “No one will take you from me – _no one._ If I have to kill every last Klingon in the galaxy, I will. And I'll do the same to anyone who dares to threaten your safety.”

Julian met his gaze. His normally bright eyes seemed dimmer, somehow. “I know,” he said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is potentially upsetting. If you've made it this far, I'm pretty sure you'll be fine, but just wanted to give a heads-up.

Julian was able to return to their quarters that night. He was getting stronger by the hour, but he still needed to lean on Garak as they slowly made their way down the corridors. When they finally arrived, Garak ushered him to the bedroom. He had Julian sit down on the bed.

“I'd like to get changed,” Julian said, attempting to rise. 

“Don't get up,” Garak said. “I'll get your clothes for you.” 

He selected night clothes from the bureau and brought them to Julian. “Do you need help getting changed?”

“No,” Julian said through gritted teeth. “I can manage.”

Once Julian was dressed, Garak tucked him into bed, making sure he was properly propped up with pillows. When that was done, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He'd never taken care of anyone before. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I don't think I could keep much down at the moment.”

“Perhaps some crackers? Or broth – I can get you some broth – ”

“I said I didn't want anything,” Julian snapped. He added after a moment, “I'm sorry. Doctors tend to make terrible patients.”

Garak sat down on the edge of the bed. “Is there really nothing I can do?”

“I suppose you could get me a cup of tea.” 

Garak hurried to the replicator and ordered a cup of Tarkalean tea. After giving it to Julian, he sat down on the bed again. Julian took one sip, then set the cup on the bedside table.

“It's not too hot, is it?”

“It's fine,” Julian said. “What I really need is some rest.” 

“Of course, of course,” Garak said. He was about to stand up, but then he succumbed to an impulse and grabbed Julian's hand, pressing it to his lips. “I thought I'd lost you,” he said, overcome with emotion.

Julian said nothing as he waited for Garak to collect himself. Eventually, Garak released Julian's hand. He looked into his eyes; they were still so dim, and his expression was so still – as if he were made of stone. Was he in shock? That must be it. 

“I'm so glad you're safe,” Garak said. “I don't know what I'd do without – ”

“I need to rest,” Julian repeated. “Please.”

“Yes, of course,” Garak said again. “I'm sorry – I'll go now.”

He could have gone to the dining room to have his dinner, or have drink in the living room – but he did neither of those things. Instead, he left his quarters and made his way to Dr. Neeltris's. There was a tumultuous feeling in his chest that wouldn't be quieted; it seemed that his anger was not quite sated. 

He didn't bother knocking, using his security override to unlock the door instead. He found the doctor lying flat on his back in his bed, snoring. There was an empty wine bottle lying on the floor. Garak shook his shoulder. “Wake up!” 

The doctor woke with a start. “What – ” he started, but Garak hauled him out of bed before he could complete his thought. He slammed him up against the wall.

“Julian nearly died tonight,” he said. “And where were you? Passed out in your quarters – it's not even 1900!”

“I'm not drunk,” the doctor said, his words a little slurred. “I just had a little nightcap – fell asleep early – ”

Garak wrapped a hand around his throat. “Don't think I haven't noticed that you've been neglecting even your most basic duties, you worthless drunk. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't get rid of you right now!”

“Hypospray,” the doctor managed to wheeze.

Garak released his grip. The doctor fell to the floor, coughing. “What do you mean by that?” Garak asked.

It took another few moments before the doctor could speak again. “The hypospray you gave me to analyze,” he said. “I talked to a chemist friend of mine. He was interested in what I described, so I sent him the sample. I only just spoke with him; I was going to tell you tomorrow – ”

“And what did he say?” Garak interrupted. “What does the drug do?”

“It raises endorphin levels,” he said. “The pleasure centers of the brain are activated, but with none of the usual impairment that these sorts of drugs usually cause.”

“What does that mean? What sorts of effects does it have?”

“Elevated mood. Decreased sensitivity to pain.” He paused. “And an increase in sexual responsiveness.”

Garak felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He sat down on Dr. Neeltris's bed and put his head in his hands. “He's sure that's what it does?” he asked after a moment.

“I believe so.” The doctor had pushed himself to his feet by that point. “What happened to Dr. Julian?” he asked hesitantly. 

“He was poisoned," Garak said. "Fortunately, Anna diagnosed him correctly and gave him the antitoxin.”

“Thank heavens he is all right,” the doctor said. He appeared to have recovered from his rude awaking. “I most humbly apologize for my lapse in duties. It's unforgivable, I realize, but I beg you to give me a chance to redeem myself...”

Garak was too filled with misery to care much about the doctor anymore. “Yes, fine,” he said, rising to his feet. “Fine, fine.”

Garak left the doctor's quarters. His feet put themselves in front of one another mechanically; he wasn't sure where he was going. Certainly not back to his own quarters. He eventually found himself in his office. He sat at his desk and laid his head against the cool surface. 

He supposed he should be angry right now, but he was too numb to feel much of anything. He could not say he was surprised at the revelation. How could he have believed, even for a moment, that Julian truly found pleasure in his touch? Some stupid part of him had hoped that he was wrong, but if he was honest with himself, he'd known the truth for quite some time. 

The enormity of his crimes against Julian suddenly rushed into his heart. When he'd seen Julian laid out in the infirmary, he had been filled with rage against anyone who would dare hurt his Julian. But he was the one who hurt him the most, wasn't he? He loved Julian more than anything in his entire life – and yet, he sacrificed him daily to his monstrous desire. Could he blame Julian for using whatever was at his disposal to help him pretend that their trysts were something other than a violation?

He became aware of a sharp pain in his head; it took a moment for him to realize he was beating it against the desk. He stopped, but the agony continued. He got to his feet and began to pace the room, his steps becoming faster and faster, as if he could outrun his misery.

But then something occurred to him. His thoughts went back to the night he almost let Julian go, and the day after, when he had stopped his demands. Things had definitely changed between them after that, hadn't they? Julian was different now – lighter with him. Kinder. Happier. Maybe Julian had forgiven him. And if that were so, maybe he didn't have to use the hypospray anymore. 

He stopped his pacing and cocked his head, turning the idea over in his mind. Yes. It made sense. Perhaps not all was lost after all. But how could he be sure? He thought some more, and soon an idea hit him. He left his office and made his way quickly back to Dr. Neeltris's. He rang the chime this time.

Dr. Neeltris only took a moment to answer the door. “I hadn't thought I would see you again tonight, sir!” he said with exaggerated deference. “How may I be of service?”

“Anna ran a tox screen on Julian. Would that blood sample still be in the computer?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Could you run a test to see if there's any of that drug in his system?”

“I gave the sample of the drug to my chemist friend,” the doctor said, and then added quickly, “But I can have him send me the chemical composition – I should be able to work with that.”

“And how long will that take?”

“I'll call him right now. I can run the test first thing in the morning.”

“Good,” Garak said. “I'll see you then.” 

He made his way back to his quarters. Julian was asleep, still propped up on the pillows. Garak sat down on the edge of the bed. He should leave him to his rest, but he couldn't resist running a hand along his cheek. 

Julian's eyes blinked open. Garak withdrew his hand, feeling a little guilty for disturbing him. “I'm sorry,” Garak said. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

Julian shook his head. “'s fine,” he mumbled. “Thirsty.” He reached for the now-cold tea on the bedside table and drank it in one gulp. 

“Can I get you some water?” Garak asked. Julian nodded. Garak got him a glass and returned to his side. Julian drank it down in a matter of seconds. Afterward, he seemed a little more awake.

“How are you feeling?” Garak asked.

“Like I've been poisoned,” Julian said with a weak smile. 

Garak felt relief at that smile; he was right about the shock earlier. Julian would be better soon, he was sure. Garak took Julian's hand in his own. “I have something to ask you.” 

“Yes?” 

He couldn't quite bring himself to look up at his face. Instead, he kept his gaze on Julian's hand. He was still wearing the ring that had almost caused so much trouble. It was a nice piece – silver, with small flecks of obsidian laid in the metal work. He smoothed his thumb over it. “Do you remember the time we were in the holosuite after the Intendant's horrible party? You told me I should resign my commission and leave this place behind. You do remember, don't you?”

“Yes,” Julian said warily.

“What if I did that now? We could leave at once – I have enough latinum to last us a lifetime, if we live simply. We could get a shuttlecraft and explore the galaxy, just like you said.” 

Julian jerked his hand away. Garak finally looked up. Julian's face was twisted strangely – his brow furrowed, his mouth open in a silent _oh_. “I – I don't know what to say,” Julian said after a moment. “I have my patients – ”

“Forget them!” Garak took his hand again. “I know I've treated you terribly. I don't deserve your forgiveness...but I have earned it a little, haven't I? The way we've been together the past two months – it's been different, hasn't it? We're steeped in danger and misery here, and it will eat at us, always. Let's just leave it all behind, and try to be happy, together. Julian, I love – ”

Julian turned away abruptly, freeing his hand from Garak's once again. He curled up on his side, clutching his stomach. “I'm in pain,” he said, his voice strained. “I can't talk about this right now – I'm sorry.”

“Is there something I can do?” Garak put a hand on his shoulder; Julian jerked away. 

“I need rest,” he said. “Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” 

Garak remained on the bed for a moment, feeling helpless. Finally, he did as Julian asked and left. He returned to the dining room and ate the dinner he'd prepared for them before disaster had struck – it had only been a couple of hours, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. After he ate, he poured a drink and returned to the bedroom. He sat on the sofa and stared out the window, the way Julian so often did. He tried to imagine a hole opening up in the blackness – what must that look like? Was it a violent tearing, or did the blackness bloom open into light, like a flower? He supposed he would never know.

He changed into his nightclothes. He made a little bed for himself on the sofa so that he wouldn't disturb Julian's rest. It was comfortable enough, but he still couldn't fall asleep. His plea to leave the station had been foolish; he knew it wasn't really an option. The Regent would never allow it – he would hunt Garak down and have him executed for treason. It didn't even bear thinking about what would become of Julian after that. And of course, Julian would never abandon his Terrans.

Even so, there had been something in the way Julian reacted to the suggestion that made Garak uneasy. He had seemed almost...horrified. But that couldn't be true, could it? After all the progress they'd made? Perhaps it was simply the pain, as Julian had said. He shouldn't let it worry him. 

But it did worry him. He got up to check on Julian; he was sleeping soundly. He went to the bar and poured himself another drink, and then another after that. Finally, he was able to drift off into sleep, but it was not a restful slumber.  
* * * * 

_He was standing on a beach, naked and waist deep in water as blue as a jewel. The warm water lapped over his skin as gentle as a lover's caress. The day was beautiful and bright; he felt his whole being saturated by the light of the sun. Everything was perfect. Nothing could be better._

_But the sunlight started to grow brighter and hotter; it soon felt as if it were burning his skin. His eyes scanned the sky, and then he saw it – a bright star growing larger and larger. It was falling. It fell. It hit the ocean somewhere he couldn't see. There was a moment when nothing changed, but then the water swept back, like a sudden intake of breath, rushing away from him, leaving him cold and exposed. And then he saw the wave._

_He tried to run, but his feet were caught in the sand. In the distance, he saw Julian. He waved his hands in warning, but the wave crashed into Julian with a violence that left him breathless. And a moment later, he too was swept away. There was darkness, and the water, and then there was nothing at all._  
* * * *  
Garak awoke feeling as exhausted as if he hadn't slept at all. It was the liquor, most likely. A nightmare lingered in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite recall it. He shook it off as best he could. 

Julian was still asleep when he left for the day. He headed to the infirmary first. Anna passed by him as he entered, holding a medical kit in her hands. It appeared that she was taking over Julian's duties. It took a moment for Garak to find Dr. Neeltris. “Well?” Garak asked. “Have you run the test?”

The doctor looked nervous. “I wasn't able to,” he said. “There's no record of a blood sample being taken from Dr. Julian.”

Garak blinked in surprise. “That's not possible. I saw Anna run it myself.”

“It could be a computer glitch,” he said. “I could always take another sample.”

“No,” Garak said, still feeling off-balance. “No, that won't be necessary. Thank you.”

Dr. Neeltris sighed with relief. “If there's anything else I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask. I am at your service, as always.”

Garak went to his office, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. But why should it bother him? It had to be a glitch; otherwise, how would Anna have known how to treat him? He sighed and rubbed his face; he would have to worry about Julian later – for now, he was going to have to deal with more pressing matters. He had to speak with the Regent, and if things didn't go well, a missing tox screen would be the least of his worries. 

It turned out he didn't have to make the call – the Regent beat him to it. “ _What is the meaning of this_?” he roared in lieu of a greeting. 

“I take it you've heard,” Garak said, keeping his voice steady.

“You've killed Telok!”

“In honorable combat, as is permitted by your laws.”

“And my men say it was over some Terran whore?”

“His attack on the Terran was an insult to me, and a challenge to my authority – I could not let that go unanswered!”

“What proof do you have that he was behind it?” 

“The only proof I need is how quickly he fell under my blade!” Garak said, roaring himself now. “He was a coward, attacking me through poison and deceit. He got the fate he deserved, and I will gladly kill any other cowards who dare defy me!”

The Regent paused for a moment, then let out a bark of laughter. “You have the mind of a Cardassian, my _qua'lach_ , but the heart of a Klingon. I will be sure Telok's replacement is more worthy.”

“He'd better be,” Garak said. A step too far, maybe, but with Klingons, it was best to err on the side of boldness.

The Regent laughed again. “You will have no cause to complain, I promise you.” He seemed in a better mood now. “There is something that still troubles me,” he said. “My men tell me you have become soft with the Terrans. _Very_ soft. I hope this has nothing to do with your whore.”

“Of course it doesn't.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“It's quite simple, really,” Garak said. “There are two hundred Terran slaves on this station, all of whom technically belong to Bajor. Once the invasion starts, they will be ours, of course. If the Terrans have been well-treated by the Alliance, I imagine they will be happy to assist us in our efforts. And don't you think they will be eager to pay back the indignities they've suffered, if given the chance? I'm buying you two hundred more soldiers who will fight fiercely, and all it's costing me is a little kindness.”

The Regent roared with delight. “I should have known that you had some slippery plan! I am well pleased. Continue with your work, my _qua'lach_.”

Garak was relieved, but smart enough not to show it. “I am forever in your service, Regent,” he said with a slight incline of his head. 

“Let us hope so,” the Regent said, baring his teeth. “If you disappoint me, I will travel to your station to kill you myself.” He laughed again before ending the call.

Garak leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face. That, at least, was over. He took out a small bottle of kanar he kept in his desk and poured himself a glass – just a small one, to take the edge off his tension. He was finally starting to feel more relaxed when the light on his console blinked – he was receiving another subspace call. 

When he answered it, a vaguely familiar-looking Bajoran man appeared on his viewscreen. He was very good-looking, and had the posture and smirk of someone who knew exactly how handsome he was. His hair was blond, with just a touch of distinguished grey at his temples. A series of dazzling rings decorated his fingers. 

“Gul Garak!” the man said. “How nice to meet you at last. I'm Oldynt Isyryn – perhaps you've heard of me?”

Recognition dawned on him. Oldynt Isyryn was the owner of the biggest real estate company on Bajor – and that was merely the largest of his many business conquests. He was probably the richest man on the planet, if not the entire system. “Of course, Mr. Oldynt,” Garak said. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“Oh dear,” he said. “I'm afraid you aren't quite living up to your reputation. It was only decided last night, but I still thought you would have known by now.” He smiled. “I'm the new Intendant.”

Garak blinked stupidly at him for a moment. “What?” 

“It's not quite official yet,” he continued. “But I don't imagine it will take long to confirm me.”

Garak's mind hadn't quite caught up with the information. He managed a smile. “Forgive me – you have, indeed, caught me off-guard. I had thought you were part of the faction who believed privatizing this station would be in the best interests of the Bajoran people.”

Oldynt waved a jeweled hand dismissively. “Oh, I was, but I have since evolved on the issue. I had wanted to buy the station, but then I thought – why spend the money when I can take control of it for free? Besides, I've always wanted to try my hand at politics.” 

Garak did his best to keep the smile on his face. “I see,” he said. 

“I thought I'd come to take a tour of the facility – tomorrow, I think.”

“Tomorrow?” Garak said faintly. “I'm afraid we won't have time to make preparations – ”

“Oh, there's no need for _that_. In fact, I forbid you to change a thing. I need to see exactly how things are run.” He smiled again. “Oh, don't look so pained! I'm not planning on cutting you loose. Bajor is very keen on keeping our good relationship with the Alliance. And you'll find I'm very generous – in fact, you stand to make a lot more than the piddling salary your military parses out.” He clapped his hands. “But enough talk right now; we'll have plenty of time to iron things out tomorrow. I'll arrive in the morning.”

Garak merely gave him a miserable nod – what else could he do?

“I'm so looking forward to meeting you in person. Perhaps we can have lunch at that Ferengi restaurant I've heard so much about – Rom's, I think it is? Go ahead and book us a table, would you? Or never mind – I'll do it myself. Until tomorrow, then!” He ended the call.

Garak sat at his desk in a daze for several long moments. He brought out his bottle of kanar again and had another glass. He should have been paying closer attention to the machinations on Bajor, but he'd been convinced the argument was still at a stalemate. His initial plan to deal with an Intendant, should one be appointed, was to bribe them to stay away, but that obviously wouldn't work with the richest man on Bajor. He'd have to somehow convince him that he didn't need to locate himself on the station – but Oldynt was notorious for his hands-on approach to his acquisitions. 

He went about the rest of his day as usual, hoping some inspiration would strike him, but nothing came to mind. The end of the day came at last, and he was able to retreat to his quarters. Julian was lying on the sofa in the living room, reading a padd. He was still dressed in his satin white nightclothes. He looked a little better than before, but he still appeared pale and drawn. 

“How are you feeling?” Garak asked.

“Better,” Julian said. 

“Has your appetite returned?”

“Some.”

“Then I will prepare some dinner for us.” Garak replicated a meal for them and set the table. He waited until Julian was mostly done with his meal to give him the latest news. “I spoke with the Regent today.” 

“How did that go?”

“It went well.”

Julian gave him a strange look. “Well?” he echoed. 

“Yes. The Klingons believe very strongly in trail by combat. The fact that I won speaks to the righteousness of my cause. I think he respects me even more, oddly enough.”

“Oh,” Julian said weakly, the strange expression still on his face. 

“This is good news,” Garak pointed out.

“I'm sorry,” Julian said. “I still don't feel well. Of course it's good news.”

The uneasy feeling returned – something was most definitely not right. Julian should be pleased that the Regent wasn't going to give them any trouble; why, then, was his expression so grim? “I have other news,” Garak continued. “Unfortunately, it's bad – it seems that a new Intendant has been appointed. He arrives tomorrow.”

Julian cursed. “Not yet,” he said, more to himself than to Garak.

Garak stared at him. He thought – suddenly, strangely – of tidal waves, of that terrible moment when the water receded, when it was too late to run, and all that was left was to bear the destruction. “What do you mean by that?” he asked in a low voice.

Julian waited a moment too long to answer. “The Alliance troops haven't arrived yet. Like you said, we can't have the Bajoran government interfering before that.” 

Julian was lying. Garak wasn't sure why he was so certain, but he was more sure of it than he'd been of anything in quite some time. “I don't think that's what you meant at all.”

“What else would I mean?” Julian said.

“I don't know,” Garak said, but he _did_ know, didn't he? All at once, a number of things began to fall into place in his mind – little pieces to a puzzle which he had ignored, because he hadn't known there was a puzzle to solve at all. A dark anger began to boil inside him. “I talked to Dr. Neeltris this morning.”

Julian gave him a puzzled look at the change of subject. “What about?”

“I asked him to pull the results of the tox screen Anna ran on you last night – ”

Julian's eyes widened. “Why would you – ”

“ – but he couldn't, because the computer had no record of it.”

“Perhaps it was a computer glitch,” Julian offered weakly.

“Or maybe Anna never ran the test at all, because she already knew what was wrong with you.” 

“Are you suggesting that Anna poisoned me?”

“No. I think that you poisoned yourself.”

“ _What_? Why would I do that?” Julian said in a very good approximation of shock, but it was too late for deception. Garak had already seen the panicked look in his eyes when he mentioned the tox screen.

“Because you wanted to get rid of Telok, and thought you had a shot at weakening my relationship with the Klingons as well.” 

“And I suppose I stabbed Ranrak, too,” Julian said with sarcasm. 

“No – because Ranrak was never stabbed to begin with.”

“Of course he was! You saw him in the infirmary – ”

“I didn't, as a matter of fact. And he wasn't there when I saw Dr. Neeltris – I'm sure Anna is a fine physician's assistant, but could she really heal a stab wound that severe overnight?”

“If the wound didn't hit any major organs, she most certainly could.”

“Then why don't I call him in here and have him show me his wound. I assume something like that would leave a scar.”

“You're being ridiculous,” Julian said, rising from the table. 

Garak rose as well. “You're plotting an invasion of your own, aren't you? The patterns in the subspace static – it might be true that they couldn't reach the Badlands, but perhaps there are operatives elsewhere who could relay messages to the leaders of the Terran Rebellion. And Rom – he's been using the money that you claim are for your purchases to buy something else – weapons, maybe?” 

“You just inspected the bar, and you didn't find anything.”

“The broken holosuite,” Garak said after a moment's thought. “You could hide just about anything in holosuite, as long as it was on.” Garak remembered the strange way Rom had waved his hands at O'Brien – the motions were very similar to the signs Julian made to talk with Ranrak. He must have told O'Brien to run a program that merely made it look as if the holosuite was off. 

Julian headed towards the door. “I'm not going to stand here and listen to your paranoid ravings – ”

Garak blocked his way. “I'm right, aren't I?” he said. “You've had this planned from the beginning. You've been keeping me distracted while you plan a Terran take-over of this station! Every moment you've been with me has been a _lie_!”

Julian looked frightened now. He tried again for the door, but Garak grabbed Julian by both arms and pushed him until he was backed up against the table. Several dishes crashed to the floor. “The hyposprays,” he said, half-crazed. He was still gripping Julian's arms, so tightly that it must be bruising him. “The ones you use for your 'headaches.' Tell me what's really in them.” _Tell me the truth about this one thing,_ Garak silently pleaded. Then, maybe, he could believe him about the rest. 

Julian looked at him for a long moment, his gaze darting over Garak's face. “It's a painkiller, like I've told you,” he finally said. 

Garak shut his eyes as grief washed over him. He rested his forehead against Julian's for a moment, trying his best not to weep. Without opening his eyes, he leaned in and kissed Julian on the lips. 

Julian let him for a moment before attempting to pull away, but Garak held him fast. “You're obviously upset,” Julian said, his voice carefully even. “Let's sit down and talk about this – ” Garak ignored him and continued to kiss him. Julian tried again to pull away. “You're hurting my arms – stop – Elim, _stop!_ ”

“And why should I stop?” he said ferociously. “That's our deal, isn't it? I give you some freedom, and in exchange, you say yes to whatever I want. Although I haven't been getting much out of our bargain recently. Perhaps it's time we renegotiate our terms.”

“Elim – ”

Garak slapped him hard across the face. “The only word I want to hear out of your mouth is 'yes.' Do you understand?”

Julian tried to knee him in the groin, but Garak blocked him. He grabbed one arm and twisted it behind Julian's back, spinning him around to face the table. Julian let out a shout of pain. “I asked you a question,” Garak said, twisting the arm further. “ _Do you understand?_ ”

“Yes,” Julian managed to gasp. 

“Good.” Garak eased up, but only a little. “So, _my dear_ , these are the new terms. Your time as a doctor has come to an end. You will stay in here, and you will wear a restraint. Once I'm convinced you're properly contrite, perhaps I'll even allow you full run of the quarters, but for now, you'll remain chained to my bed.” He was pressed flush to Julian's back; even through his rage, his body responded to Julian as it always did. 

“As for your friends,” he continued. “Clearly, they will have to go. I should have them tortured and killed while you watch – but I won't. I will have them imprisoned for now, and if you are very, very good, I will merely have them sold. Or evicted, in Rom's case. That's very kind of me, don't you think?” 

Julian tried to rear back, but was easily subdued with another sharp twist. Garak pushed him forward until he was bent over the table. With his free hand, he pulled Julian's trousers down to his knees. He then undid his own.

It was over quickly. Julian only cried out once before going silent. When Garak was finished, he allowed Julian to break free of his grasp at last; he stumbled to the washroom and shut the door. The red-hot rage that had gripped Garak started to fade, only to be replaced by a growing sense of horror. What had he done? 

He refastened his trousers, then went to the bar. He poured himself a large glass of kanar and downed it in one desperate gulp. He tried to have another after that, but he gagged on it, nearly vomiting. He was breathing harshly through his clenched teeth; it made a strange whistling noise with every inhale. A death rattle, he thought. The death of the man he might have been, had he loved Julian better – enough to let him go. 

He sank to the floor, holding his head in his hands, and remained there until Julian at last emerged from the washroom. There was a bruise blossoming on his face from where Garak had slapped him. He was cradling his wrist, which was swollen and discolored. 

Garak lurched to his feet. He stared at Julian for a long moment, his breath still strained. “Are you – ” he began, but realized asking him if he was all right was a laughable question. “Are you badly injured?”

“Wasn't that the point?” Julian asked. His voice was flat, his face expressionless. “My wrist is badly sprained. It needs medical attention.”

Garak dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I'll call Dr. Neeltris,” he said when he'd collected himself enough to speak. 

Julian went to the bedroom to wait for the doctor's arrival. Garak had another glass of kanar; this time, it stayed down. Dr. Neeltris arrived fifteen minutes later, medical kit in tow. Garak led him to the bedroom. Julian was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Dr. Neeltris knelt beside Julian and touched him on the shoulder. “Where are you hurt?” he asked. He sounded surprisingly gentle; maybe he wasn't quite as terrible of a doctor as Garak had thought. 

Julian held out his wrist. The doctor took a medical device from his kit and began to heal the sprain. Once that was finished, the doctor asked, “Where else?”

Julian didn't say anything. The doctor turned to Garak. “Maybe you should wait in the other room,” he murmured. 

Garak did as the doctor said. He poured himself another drink. It seemed like forever before the doctor emerged. “I gave him something for his pain,” he said. “He's asleep.” 

Garak put down his glass. His hands were shaking. “Thank you,” he said. “You may leave now. Speak of this to no one.”

The doctor looked as if he were going to say something, but he changed his mind. He left without another word. After he was gone, Garak went to the bedroom and found Julian asleep, just as the doctor had said. The bruise on his face had been healed. With shaking hands, Garak retrieved the restraining device from the bureau. He attached the base to the bed, and then put the cuff on Julian's ankle, careful not to wake him. 

When that was finished, Garak went back to his bar to have another drink, and then another, and then another after that. Things became hazy. He ended up on the floor at one point, weeping. And then everything faded away. 

* * * * 

He woke up in a pool of his own vomit, his body jerking as he coughed and gagged. Once the spasms had passed, he was able to push himself into a sitting position. He still felt drunk. With difficultly, he tried to pull his thoughts together. He asked the computer for the time – it was 0800. The new Intendant would be arriving – had he specified a time? He'd said the morning. Garak needed to get moving.

He stumbled to the washroom. With some effort, he managed to clean himself up and get dressed. Before he left, he checked the bedroom. There was a blanket-covered mound on the bed; Julian must still be asleep. He didn't have the courage to even look at him.

Oldynt arrived within the hour, leaving Garak no time to implement his threats to Julian's co- conspirators. He could have had O'Brien, Anna and Ranrak swept up without much difficulty, but Rom was going to be a different matter. He was not so meek as his brother, and he was also very popular; arresting him was going to cause a big stir. If Garak imprisoned the others now, it would tip Rom off. It would have to wait until he was finished with Oldynt, who fortunately was only staying overnight. He just hoped that the others would believe Julian's absence had to do with his recovery from the poison.

Garak steered the new Intendant around the station, only half-listening to his babble about all the plans he had for it. They had lunch at Rom's as he had requested. Rom and Oldynt seemed to take a liking to each other right away – something else that was going to cause Garak problems. If Rom knew about what had happened with Julian, he didn't show it. Of course, Rom was an excellent liar, as Garak had recently learned. 

It was about 1800 when Oldynt was at last satisfied with his tour of his new kingdom. They ended up back in front of Rom's bar. “I certainly have my work cut out for me!” he observed. “I wish I didn't have other engagements this week. Oh well – we'll have enough time later, I'm sure.”

“I'll show you to your quarters,” Garak mumbled. 

“No need for that just yet – the night is young! I think I'll spend some time at Rom's before I retire. Terrific fellow, isn't he? I foresee a fruitful relationship between his business and ours.”

“As you say,” Garak mumbled, desperate to get away.

“It's a shame your Terran doctor was unavailable – I was looking forward to meeting him. I've heard some interesting things about him.”

“Such as?” Garak asked, trying not to sound too interested, but his heart began to quicken. Did he know about his relationship with Julian?

“Oh, just that he's something of a genius. That could be useful, don't you think?”

Garak relaxed. Most of the Intendant's contacts on the station were probably with the higher caste of Bajoran workers, most of whom never stepped foot on the processing floor. It was possible that they hadn't taken notice. And given that the remaining Bajoran overseers were terrified of his displeasure, they were perhaps not inclined to gossip. 

Oldynt flashed him a brilliant white smile. “And now you're giving me that sour look again,” he said. “Don't you have any other expressions?” He gave Garak a friendly clap on the arm. “Cheer up! All in all, you haven't done a terrible job. It's just that a military man can't possibly know the intricacies of running a proper business – and this _is_ a business, after all. Which is not to say you don't have your strengths! You have a quite a distinguished military record, and I'm sure you'll continue to serve this station with admirable dedication.” 

“Thank you,” Garak said.

“And you are absolutely quivering with the desire to get away from me so you can go lick your wounds in peace, aren't you? Very well. I'll see you in the morning. I'll leave you notes on some of the changes I'd like to make – ”

Garak was nodding absently, looking past Oldynt, when something impossible caught his eye. Out of Rom's bar, Julian emerged. He was dressed in a swirl of golden silks and shimmering chiffon. His complexion was no longer ashy; in fact, he seemed to almost glow, and his eyes were done up with a little kohl. Bracelets encircled both of his wrists like jeweled manacles. A diamond earring sparkled from his left ear. 

Garak thought he might be hallucinating. Oldynt turned to follow his gaze; the look of delight that came over his face told Garak he must be seeing the same thing. Julian reached them at last. As he approached, the subtle scent of warm spices wafted toward them. He put a hand on Garak's arm and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “Hello, Elim,” he breathed. 

Garak stared at him in shock, his thoughts too mired with confusion to say or do anything. Julian floated over to Oldynt. “And you must be our new Intendant – I'm so pleased to meet you.”

Oldynt brought Julian's hand to his lips and kissed it. “A pleasure to meet you as well, although I'm afraid you have the advantage.” He turned to Garak. “Who, may I ask, is this exquisite creature?”

Garak had no answer, so Julian supplied it for him. “I'm Julian,” he said. “Garak's Consort.”


	9. Chapter 9

Garak stared at Julian, paralyzed by confusion. How had Julian gotten out of the restraint? How had he had the time to put together this deception? He was completely transformed from the wreck he'd been last night. Garak glanced at his wrist – he even had the tattoo that marked a Consort. The biggest mystery of all, though, was what kind of game he was playing. 

Fortunately, Oldynt was too interested in Julian to pay much attention to Garak's reaction. “Julian,” he repeated. “Isn't that the name of the Terran doctor on this station?”

“Yes, we share a name,” Julian said with a little laugh. “The universe can be so funny sometimes, can't it?” He was practically rubbing himself against Oldynt, his back arched in a way that subtly tilted his ass upward. “No, I'm not a doctor. I am, however, known for my excellent bedside manner.”

Oldynt laughed. “I bet you are.” He turned to Garak again. “I can't believe you were going to keep him from me!”

“I can't believe it either!” Julian said, drifting back to Garak's side. “Really, dearest, I know you worry about my health, but my headaches are nothing compared to the agony I would have felt if I'd missed the opportunity to entertain Oldynt Isyryn himself! I'm quite upset with you, you naughty boy. Furious, in fact.” His tone was playful, but when their gazes met, Garak was met with an anger so intense that he thought it would burn him. 

“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Julian turned to Oldynt. “What do you think? Shall I forgive him?”

“Look at the poor man,” Oldynt said, grinning. “He's clearly miserable. Have mercy on him.”

“Hmm,” Julian said. “Well, I'll think about it. But I'm going to make you suffer for it.”

Garak felt ill.

Julian turned back to Oldynt. “I thought we could all head to our quarters for a little fun. I've ordered dinner to be sent to us, but I wasn't quite sure of your preferences. Would you speak to Rom and let him know what you'd like?”

“Of course,” Oldynt said. “I'll be back in a moment.”

Once Oldynt disappeared into the bar, Garak finally found his voice again. “What are you doing?”

“I'm going to get our new Intendant off the station.”

“But – how – ” Garak found that he couldn't quite form the right question.

Julian gave him a cool look. “How do you think? Anna has been training me in her profession for some time now. I was just going to have her teach me the basics of seduction, but then I decided to learn it all. From what I understand, Consorts are among the only class of Terrans who are permitted to speak freely to the 'superior' races; I thought it might come in handy one day. Seems I was right.”

Fury finally started to rise in Garak again. “No. You are going to go back to our quarters – ”

“ – and wait quietly for you rape me again?” Julian said. Garak flinched. “No, I don't think I will. In fact, I'm not going to take orders from you ever again.” He gave Garak an unnerving smile. At first glance, he had seemed to be recovered, but now that Garak really looked, he could tell Julian was not well. The flush of his skin was unnatural, his breathing was subtly labored, and his eyes – his beautiful eyes had some strange fire in them, the pupils blown so wide that only a thin ring of green was visible. He was drugged, Garak was sure – very, very drugged. 

“Do you want to know why I won't be taking orders from you?” Julian asked. Garak didn't say anything, but Julian continued anyway. “There was something you forgot last night when you were making your accusations. Do you remember the changes to the processing equipment that you authorized?”

A chill went down Garak's spine. He _had_ forgotten – he'd been too distracted with the more immediate deceptions to recall something that had happened months before. 

Julian's smile sharpened when he saw the look of understanding on Garak's face. “Every one of the devices O'Brien added to the machines can be used as a bomb,” he said. “One signal from me and those bombs will be detonated. This entire station will be destroyed.”

“You wouldn't,” Garak said as a feeling of horror settled over him. “You care for the Terrans; you would never hurt them – ”

“They are hurt and humiliated every day they remain enslaved! I would prefer that we take control of this station, but if we can't – well, its destruction would be a powerful opening shot for the Terran Resistance, don't you think?” Julian's smile had twisted into something else – some expression that Garak couldn't even name. Garak knew he'd made a monster of himself – had he made one of Julian as well?

“If you make a move against my friends, the bombs will be detonated,” Julian continued. He kept his voice low, but every word became more intense than the last. “If you try to lock me up, the bombs will be detonated. If you ever attack me again like you attacked me last night, _the bombs will be detonated._ Do you understand?”

“You're bluffing,” Garak said, his voice thin and desperate. 

His lips curled upward in something close to a smile. “Are you sure?” 

He wasn't. And Julian could tell. 

Oldynt emerged from the bar. Julian went to his side and linked his arm with Oldynt's. “Are you ready to have some fun?” 

“Lead the way!” Oldynt said. “And please, call me Isyryn.”

They began to walk off. Garak remained frozen in place. “Aren't you coming?” Julian said over his shoulder. Garak somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other, trailing behind them.

They arrived at their quarters. Oldynt and Garak sat down in the living room while Julian made them drinks. Garak sat stiffly on a chair while Oldynt took the sofa. Julian brought in a tray of drinks. He handed one to Garak, another to Oldynt, and finally took one for himself. After he set down the tray, he slipped out of his shoes and curled up beside Oldynt, the very picture of an attentive Consort. 

“I can't tell you how happy I am that you're here,” Julian said. “The days can be so dreadfully dull on this station. No parties, no interesting new people – ”

“Surely Elim keeps you busy,” Oldynt teased.

“You'll notice that my complaints are with my days here,” Julian said with a suggestive smile. “I've never had any trouble occupying myself at night.”

“I'd imagine not! But hasn't the station gotten busier over the last few months? Surely you have _some_ guests.”

“Not anyone we'd want to take home, if you catch my meaning,” Julian said. “Just low-level merchants and haulers. Hardly the type I'm used to entertaining.” 

“Aren't you friendly with any of the other officers?”

“There's only one other Cardassian officer, and he's left us for the time being. And the Klingons...well, they're _Klingons_.”

“Hold on a minute,” Oldynt said. “You're the viper, aren't you?”

Julian blinked. “I'm sorry?”

Oldynt turned his attention to Garak. “I understand that you had a fatal disagreement with the former head of the Klingon forces. Witnesses say he mentioned something about a viper in your bed – was that our sweet Julian?”

Julian jumped in before Garak could respond. “He called me a viper? Oh dear.”

“So he _did_ mean you, then?”

“Probably, I'm afraid.” Julian took a long sip of his drink. His eyes were moving back and forth slightly as he thought of an explanation. Garak recognized the expression; he'd never paid it much attention before.. “We had a little bit of a – how shall I put it? A cultural misunderstanding,” he finally said. “Elim and Telok – that's the Klingon in question – had not been on very good terms before I arrived. As I understand it, he was miffed that Elim was chosen to be the steward of this station over him. When I heard of their troubles, I thought that perhaps I could help heal the rift.” Julian stirred his drink innocently. “Did you know that Klingons consider sex between men to be an unpardonable sin?”

“Oh no!” Oldynt said, laughing. 

“I mean, have you ever heard anything more ridiculous in your entire life? He actually _hit_ me – it was awful. I was so upset that I had a headache that lasted three days; I even ended up in the infirmary at one point!” 

“You poor thing,” Oldynt said, caressing his shoulder. “Well, he won't be causing headaches for you anymore, will he?”

“No,” Julian said, looking at Garak. “He won't.” Julian rose from the sofa and went to Garak's side. “I hadn't realized the fight was over me,” he said as he slid into Garak's lap. “Were you defending my honor?” 

Garak was too choked with despair to reply. Julian put a hand on Garak's cheek and drew him into a gentle kiss. “You dear, sweet fool,” he breathed. “You should have known better.” When he pulled back, there was a smirk on his face. His compassionate Julian was being cruel – and it seemed like he was enjoying it. 

They were interrupted by the door chime; dinner had arrived. Julian greeted the slaves at the door – one of whom was Ranrak. He did not seem injured; Garak's suspicions had been right, it seemed. Julian gave orders as to how he wanted the table arranged. Garak and Oldynt moved to the dining room once the slaves had finished.

“Thank you, Ranrak,” Julian said. “You've done a perfect job, as usual.” Julian turned to Oldynt. “Garak bought Ranrak just for me, and he's been such a help. I can't imagine what I'd do without him.”

Ranrak settled his gaze on Garak. The hatred in his black eyes was so intense that Garak couldn't believe he'd missed it before. It was easy to think of Vulcans as automatons; they were always so perfectly behaved, never questioning orders. They were logical creatures, and resistance was almost always doomed to failure. But if a credible path to freedom presented itself, it would be illogical not to follow it, wouldn't it? 

“You may go now,” Julian said to Ranrak. “Oh! I almost forgot. Do you remember that thing we talked about earlier? If you don't hear back from me in – oh, let's say three hours – you go ahead and take care of it, all right? ”

Ranrak made a few motions with his hands. Julian responded with his own. He bowed to Julian, then to Garak. As he turned to go, Garak thought he saw something on his face; it could have been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn it was a smile. 

After Ranrak left, they took their places at the table; the slaves began to serve them. “How long are you planning on staying?” Julian asked Oldynt eventually.

“Just the night,” he said. “I have a meeting tomorrow with the owner of a company I'm looking to acquire.”

“What sort of company?” 

“Industrial machinery. He seems eager to sell; the price of ore has been rising for the past several years, after all.”

“And you're going to sweep it up before anyone hears that you're to be the new Intendant. Then once your position is official, you'll drive down the cost of ore and make a killing.”

“Clever as well as gorgeous,” Oldynt said with a wink to Garak. “You have excellent taste. Which Consort house is he contracted with?”

“Grot's,” Julian said before Garak could say anything.

Oldynt thought for a moment. “Yes, I've heard of him – a Ferengi, isn't he?”

“Yes,” Julian said. “A friend of Rom's, actually. That's how Elim found me.”

There was a part of Garak that was impressed at the depth of Julian's deception. Oldynt was right – he _was_ clever. More clever than he knew. 

“I imagine you won't spend much time here,” Julian continued. 

“What makes you think that? This station is in serious need of rehabilitation; I'm afraid nothing less than my personal involvement is going to make a difference.” He inclined his head to Garak. “No disrespect meant to you, of course.”

“But won't it be difficult for you to accomplish your goals if you have bureaucrats breathing down your neck? The government's not likely to give you the free reign the previous Intendant enjoyed, since that was such a spectacular mess.”

Oldynt gave Julian a surprised look. “You're awfully well-informed for a whore,” he said.

Julian simply smiled and shrugged. “I've been with many successful politicians and businessmen. I couldn't help but absorb some of it. Like you said, I'm _awfully_ clever.”

“That you are!” Oldynt said, grinning. “So tell me – what would you do in my place?”

“I would establish my presence on Bajor. From what I understand, the main duty of the Intendant is to look after Bajor's off-planet interests in this sector. Make a task force dedicated to reducing piracy, or something similar – anything to draw attention away from the ore-processing center. And while everyone's busy, quietly begin implementing your plans through a proxy.”

Oldynt looked thoughtful. “Interesting,” he finally said. “But I think we've had enough talk of business for today.”

“I'll drink to that!” Julian said, pouring them all a glass of wine. 

The conversation drifted towards high society life on Bajor. Julian begged Oldynt to tell him all the details of the opulent parties, the latest gossip, the newest amusements. Oldynt was happy to comply. Now that Garak knew that Julian had been deceiving him, he found a certain morbid fascination in watching him play Oldynt. This Julian was a stranger to him. He was not the guileless man he'd been when he arrived, or the compassionate doctor he'd remained. He wasn't even the reluctant lover that Garak had created, full of resentment and bile. This creature was a flamboyant flirt with a dirty mind and a saucy attitude. Even so, Garak recognized the little touches and smiles, the teasing remarks and heated looks. His Julian had been using them on him – had it been since the beginning? No, they were new. They had appeared in the last ten weeks – the ten weeks that had given Garak the most happiness he'd ever known. 

Garak thought back to when Julian had first arrived in his universe. At the Intendant's party, he'd been unable to keep up the simple pretext of being a slave for even fifteen minutes. He knew he should feel rage at Julian's deceit, but his attack on Julian last night seemed to have drained the anger out of him. Now he just felt despair – for himself, and for his Julian, whose innocence and integrity he had destroyed. 

Garak didn't eat much, but he did drink a lot of wine. Garak was still feeling the ill effects from last night's binge, but he didn't stop drinking, no matter how much his stomach rebelled. He needed the numbness the alcohol provided; it was the only way he could make it through the night. Julian made sure that neither his glass nor Oldynt's stayed empty for long. His own glass, however, remained untouched.

By the time dinner was done, Garak was drunk, and so was Oldynt. They migrated back to the living room as the slaves carted the mess away. Oldynt pulled Julian down on the sofa with him; they landed with Julian half in his lap, both of them laughing as if they were having the most marvelous time. Garak sat in the chair opposite. He could feel the alcohol coursing through him, although he still wasn't as drunk as he'd like to be. He wondered, dispassionately, if Julian planned on fucking Oldynt right there, forcing him to watch. It seemed possible. 

Julian settled in with his back against Oldynt's chest. He started to play with Oldynt's many jeweled rings, slipping one of them onto his own finger. “It's too big!” he declared. “Your fingers are just so... _thick._ ”

Oldynt slipped off the ring he kept on his pinky and slid it onto Julian's finger. “Is that a better fit?”

“Oh yes – nice and tight.”

Oldynt nuzzled his face against Julian's temple. “You can keep it,” he said in his ear.

Julian flipped himself over and straddled Oldynt. “Aren't you a dear?” he said. “However shall I repay you?”

Oldynt slipped Julian's gauzy overshirt off of his shoulders, leaving him in a sleeveless silk top. “I'm sure you'll think of something,” he said. 

He was just about to pull Julian into a kiss when Julian turned and met Garak's gaze. “I'm afraid Elim isn't having a very good time.” 

“You're right – he isn't,” Oldynt agreed. 

“Maybe I should go cheer him up?”

Garak hadn't thought things could get worse; it appeared he was wrong. Julian wasn't just going to make him watch. He was also going to make him participate. 

Garak hoped that Oldynt would insist on keeping Julian for himself. Instead, he made a sound halfway between a laugh and a moan. “Oh yes,” he said. “I think you'd better. He has been such a wonderful host, after all.” He gave Julian's ass a brief but thorough caress before releasing him.

Garak sat paralyzed in his chair as Julian approached him. Julian stopped to remove his top; it fell to the floor without a sound. He climbed on top of Garak, wedging his knees on either side of Garak's legs in order to pin him to the chair. His bare chest was level with Garak's gaze. Julian ran his fingers along his own collarbone; Garak couldn't help but follow the motion with his eyes. Julian moved his hand from his own skin to Garak's ridge in a light caress.

_Don't do this,_ Garak silently begged, but Julian continued on mercilessly. The teasing touch turned into a stroke. He trailed his other hand down Garak's chest, pausing to pinch a nipple through the thin cloth of his shirt. The hand continued downward until it reached between his legs. Julian let out a little moan, the kind that he knew drove Garak wild. It was a grotesque mockery of intimacy they'd shared before, which was itself a parody of real love. A sharp pain pierced Garak's heart; it appeared the alcohol hadn't numbed him completely after all. 

Garak tried to resist the sensations, but his body was too stupid to realize that things had gone horribly wrong. All it knew was the warmth of Julian's body, and the sure touch of his hands that had brought it countless hours of pleasure. Against his will, his cock began to harden. His gaze flickered upward and met Julian's. Julian's face was twisted in vicious triumph. He'd taken control of his situation at last not by fending Garak off, but by throwing his monstrous desire back in his face. 

Garak turned his head away, but then his eye caught Oldynt, who was sitting slouched on the sofa, one arm draped along the back of it lazily as he watched the spectacle. He was flushed as he watched Julian's ministrations, an obvious bulge in his trousers. Garak felt a wave of humiliation crash over him, but even that was not enough to counter his desire. Julian had lowered himself from his knees into Garak's lap, rolling his hips forward and moaning again. 

Garak shut his eyes. The alcohol may not have been enough to dull his pain or lust, but it did let him drift away. He tried to think of a moment between them that hadn't been laden with lies. There was none. The closest they'd ever come was their first night together. Garak had lied when he said he'd help him escape, but he'd been honest about his pain, and Julian had been honest in his compassionate response. He'd been so generous and warm – warm enough to melt away the pain of his life. 

He rested his head on Julian's shoulder. “Julian,” he murmured, too softly for Oldynt to hear. “Oh my Julian – what have I done?”

Julian was suddenly still. Garak opened his eyes and found Julian's face inches from his own. The hateful expression was gone, replaced with one of uncertainty – maybe even regret. It almost seemed as though his Julian had returned, as if he'd managed to invoke him with his plea. The held each others' gaze for a long moment.

“So is he 'cheered up' properly?” Oldynt said, breaking the spell. 

Julian tore his gaze away from Garak's and turned himself around. He sat down again on Garak's lap, his back flush to Garak's chest. He reached his arm up and back, caressing Garak's face and putting himself on display. “That he is,” he said, his voice flirty again. “But now I'm afraid I've left you lonely.”

“Don't worry about me,” Oldynt said. “I'm enjoying the show.” He leaned forward with a lecherous grin. “Why don't you get down on your knees and suck his – ”

Garak pushed Julian off and got to his feet. “I'm sorry, I'm unwell,” Garak said. “My stomach – my heart – I'm unwell. I'm un– ” The nauseous feeling in his stomach suddenly overwhelmed him; he rushed to the washroom, barely making it before he vomited.

Garak remained on the floor when he was finished, resting his head on the cool toilet. “Oh dear,” he heard Oldynt say. “Perhaps you should check on him.” 

“Yes, I think I'd better.”

A moment later, Julian entered the washroom. He slid the door shut. Neither of them said anything for a moment. 

Garak was the first to speak. “You've proved your point,” he said. “I will do whatever you say. Just – end this.”

Julian squatted down beside him, a vicious look back on his face. “Oh, I'm sorry – am I hurting you?” he said, his voice filled with mock concern. “Are you begging me to stop?” 

“Yes,” Garak said. It wasn't as if he had any pride left. 

The hateful expression faltered again. Julian stood up and turned away. His skin had grown ashy again, and Garak noticed a fine tremor in his hands. He went to the sink and ran his hand behind it, eventually pulling out a hypospray. “I'll go with Oldynt to his quarters.” 

“You don't have to do this,” Garak said. He knew he had no way to stop him, but he couldn't simply let him go. 

“Yes, I do. I need him off this station, and he's still on the fence.”

“This isn't you,” Garak said, fighting tears. “You aren't a – ” 

“ – a whore?” Julian finished for him. “Of course I am – it's what you've made me.” He held the hypospray to his neck and pushed the button. He shut his eyes and let out a long sigh as the drug took effect. When he opened them, his pupils were blown wide again. The strange smile was back. Garak knew he had been dosing himself for quite some time, but he'd never been like this. How much of it was he taking?

Julian returned the hypospray to its hiding place before turning to Garak. “Get up,” he said. Garak rose unsteadily got to his feet. Once he was standing, Julian pushed him out the door. “Straight to bed with you,” he said as they headed toward the bedroom, his voice playful again. 

Oldynt poked his head into the bedroom. “Everything all right?”

“Elim has had a tad too much to drink,” Julian said. “So he's going to lie down and have a tall glass of water. He's expressed his wish that we continue our fun in your quarters. Isn't that right?”

Garak managed a nod. 

Julian tucked him into bed, then went to fetch him some water. “Is that better, darling?” Garak couldn't muster a response, but it seemed Julian wasn't looking for one. He gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. “Get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. And no getting out of bed – I forbid it!”

Oldynt was waiting for him at the bedroom's doorway. Julian slipped an arm around his waist. “Don't worry,” Julian said to Garak. “Isyryn won't call on you too early tomorrow. He's going to need his rest, too, once I'm through with him!” 

Oldynt laughed and laid a sloppy kiss on Julian's neck. “Shall we go?” he said.

“Yes,” Julian said. And with that, they were gone.

Garak lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Once he was sure they were gone, he stumbled to the bathroom. He pulled Julian's hypospray from behind the sink. According to the gauge, it wasn't quit empty yet. He pressed it to his neck; he had no idea what dose he was giving himself, and he didn't care. After a moment, his nausea faded away as a warm feeling washed over him. He felt lighter, calmer. His misery seemed so inconsequential now. He even laughed a little. 

He made his way back to the bedroom, shedding his clothes as he went. He cuddled up in bed with a sigh. Everything felt good – the softness of his pillow, the silkiness of the satin sheets against his bare skin, the warm weight of the blanket over him. He soon found himself drifting off. There was no more sorrow, no more pain. After all, it wasn't as if he'd lost Julian.

He'd never had him to begin with. 

* * * 

When he awoke the next morning, the contented feeling was gone. The now-familiar nausea and pain were back; he curled up in a fetal position under the covers, wondering how long he could stay there until he was missed. 

However, a few minutes later he was forced out of bed when he heard the front door open. He managed to pull on his trousers before he rushed to the front door. Julian stood there, leaning against the wall by the door. He did not look well – his skin was ashier than ever, his face was drawn, and he was shaking.

Garak went to his side. “Are you all right?”

“Oldynt is going to offer you a deal,” Julian said. “Take it.” He turned around as if he were going to leave, but then he collapsed. Garak caught him before he hit the floor. 

“Do you need Dr. Neeltris?”

Julian shook his head. “No – Anna,” he said with difficulty. “Need to lie down.”

Garak scooped Julian up in his arms and took him to bed. His complexion had somehow gotten worse, and his breathing seemed labored. Panic began to rise in Garak's chest. He found a shirt and his shoes, then raced out of the room.

He asked the computer to locate Anna; she was in the infirmary. He burst through the door and, after some searching, found her in the back room. No one else was present. Her blue eyes widened in surprise when she saw him. 

“You have to come with me,” Garak said.

She started shaking her head. “Dr. Julian said you can't take me – ”

“I'm not arresting you,” Garak interrupted. “It's Julian. There's something wrong with him – he just collapsed. He said I should come get you.”

She still looked hesitant. They couldn't waste any more time; Julian could be dying, for all Garak knew. He had to convince her to come with him. So he did the only thing he could think of; he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Please,” he said. “Anna, I'm begging you. It's not a trap, I just need your help. _Please._ ”

Her eyes grew even wider. “All right,” she finally said. She packed a med kit, and then they were off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> I decided I didn't have enough material for two more chapters, so I combined everything into this one. Which means, of course, that this is the end. Writing this series has been a wonderful experience for me - thank you so much to everyone who's read, commented, and/or left kudos. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have! 
> 
> And now, the shocking conclusion! (You might want to have some tissues on hand.)

It only took a few minutes for Anna and Garak to reach his quarters. He led Anna to the bedroom – Julian was still lying on the bed unconscious. She took a medical scanner out of her kit and ran it over him. 

“What's wrong with him?” Garak asked.

“His neurotransmitter levels are dangerously depleted.” 

“It's because of the drug he's been taking, isn't it.”

Anna gave a small nod. She pulled out a hypospray, but before she could administer it, Garak caught her by her wrist. “What are you giving him?”

“His drug.”

“But that's what caused this! You can't give him more – ”

“He's become dependent on it,” Anna said, uncharacteristically fierce. “It's what he told me to do if this happened. You asked for my help – let me give it to him.”

Garak released her hand. She administered the drug; within moments, Julian's color began to improve, and his breathing was more steady. Even so, he still did not look well. The fact that he was still wearing all of his fine clothing and jewelry provided a nasty contrast with his depleted physical state. The kohl he'd put around his eyes was smeared, making the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced – combined with his gaunt face, he looked almost skeletal. 

Garak sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do with himself. After a few more minutes, Julian's eyes fluttered open as he let out a groan. It took a moment for his eyes to focus. “Did you take the deal?” Julian said urgently, grasping Garak's arm. 

“I haven't spoken with him yet,” Garak said. “You collapsed; I had bring Anna to help you.” In spite of the nastiness of the previous night, he still found himself wanting to gather Julian in his arms, or at least take his hand in his own. That was over now, though. He fought the urge to take his hand. “What did he do to you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Nothing I'm not used to,” Julian snapped. He shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “He didn't hurt me,” he said in a more measured tone. “This is from the drug. I had to take several large doses to keep up the act. I will be fine now – I just need some time to recover.”

“You won't,” Anna whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “You already take too much – you can't keep doing this.”

Julian took Anna's hand in his own. “It will be fine,” he said gently. “I just need to rest.” 

Garak felt a pang in his heart. He knew he had been hurting Julian, but he hadn't realized how much he'd put his health in jeopardy. He looked down at his hands to avoid looking at Julian. He noticed the small silver scars from the time he broke that crystal bird when he was a child. They were so much a part of him that he rarely noticed them, but today, they seemed as ugly as they were when he first got them. 

“What is this deal you want me to take?” Garak asked, still not looking at Julian.

“I've told Oldynt you and Rom have an under-the-table scheme that requires you to retain your position of authority,” Julian said. “He's willing to stay away for three months so that you can rake in some extra latinum before he takes over.”

“And three months will be enough time for you,” Garak said, looking up at last.

Their gazes met. “Yes,” Julian said. “It will be enough time.”

It was a relief, in a way. He searched himself for any desire to take control again, but found none. “I suppose I should go, then,” he said. 

“I suppose you should.” Julian was clearly struggling to stay awake, but he was losing the battle. His eyes closed again, and a few moments later, he fell asleep. Anna and Garak retreated to the living room.

“Will you stay with him while I'm gone?” Garak asked her.

Anna stuck out her chin. “Yes,” she said, her voice quivering. “And I'll stay with him once you come back, too. I'm not leaving him alone with you.”

Meek little Anna was not so meek anymore, it seemed. “I won't hurt him,” Garak said. “Or you, or anyone else. It's over now.” 

Anna gave him a strange look. He left before she could ask him what he'd meant.

It didn't take long for Garak to reach Oldynt's room. He had to ring the door chime twice before Oldynt answered. “Elim!” he said, sounding cheerful. “I'm surprised to see you so early – please, come in.”

Garak followed him inside. Oldynt was dressed in nothing but a gauzy robe and short pants; his body was so well-sculpted that it didn't look at all ridiculous on him. If he was feeling the effects from last night's activities, he didn't show it. “I was just about to have another cup of raktajino,” he said. “Would you like some?”

The thought of it turned his stomach, but he accepted anyway. Once Oldynt replicated the drinks, they moved to the living room. Garak sat stiffly in the chair while Oldynt took the sofa. He didn't sit so much as he lounged, taking up more room than was necessary. He reminded Garak in some ways of the previous Intendant, although he didn't seem to be deliberately cruel. His cheerful brand of condescending arrogance was maddening in its own special way. 

“And how are you feeling?” Oldynt asked. “Better, I hope?”

Garak nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on his cup.

“Glad to hear it! It happens to the best of us. I remember once when I was in negotiations with some Risens over a hotel I wanted to open on their planet. Now _there_ is a species that can drink; I was sick for a week afterward!” He laughed. “And how is our poor Julian?”

Garak looked up from his drink. He wasn't sure what to say. “He's resting,” was what he finally decided on. 

“That's good. He woke up looking positively green – no wonder you're worried about his health! Headaches can be a terrible affliction. I think I'll have my own personal physician pay him a visit, after – well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's get down to business, shall we?”

Garak nodded again. He was grateful Oldynt seemed so in love with the sound of his own voice; it saved him from having to think of a response. 

“Julian tells me that you and Rom are – how shall I put it? In 'business' together. And that your 'business' would come to an end the moment you hand over control of this station to me.” He held up a hand. “I don't want to know the details – I am a government official now, after all. As a businessman, I'm very sympathetic to your position. Alas, I have my own interests to look after, so I can't let it go on indefinitely. But I will give you an additional three months to wrap things up. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes,” Garak said mechanically. 

“Good!” Oldynt said with another flash of his wide, white teeth. “I do have one tiny favor to ask in return.”

Of course he did. “And what is that?”

“I understand Julian's contract is up at around the time I'll be returning. Don't renew it.” 

If Garak were the man he'd been a few days ago, Oldynt would be dead. Perhaps he wouldn't have killed him right then and there, but there would definitely had been some sort of shuttle accident, or perhaps he'd be sent back to Bajor with a poisoned bottle of wine. Actually, maybe he _would_ have slit his throat, consequences be damned. Start the war early for all he cared. 

But Garak was not the man he was a few days ago. It wasn't even Julian's threat of the bombs that stayed his hand. He was simply done with it all. “All right,” he said. 

“Excellent!” Oldynt said. He stared off into the distance with a fond smile on his face. “Remarkable creature, isn't he? I have trouble finding someone who can keep up with me, and Julian does that and more. I think I'll just buy him outright. The things he can do with his mouth...” He snapped out of his reverie and returned his attention to Garak. “Don't worry – I'm more than happy to share. Perhaps we can have a little get together when I return.”

“That would be lovely,” Garak said. He even managed a smile, because he knew that Oldynt would never see Julian again. The capture of the station by the Terrans would be extremely embarrassing for him, to say the least – particularly when he found out who the leader of the operation was. It wouldn't be enough to ruin him financially, but his career in politics would be over. The thought was enough to keep him from wrapping his hands around Oldynt's throat. 

“I'm looking forward to it,” Oldynt said. “And now, if you'll excuse me, I really ought to get dressed and ready to go. Can't linger much longer, I'm afraid, but we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other later on. We're going to be great together, I can tell!”

Garak left Oldynt's quarters and headed to his office. He delegated his duties to a few underlings. For a moment, he missed Dukat, but then he realized that Dukat must be in on the whole Terran plot. God knew where he really was right now – probably with the rebels, carrying out Julian's orders. Garak couldn't really blame him. People tended to do the strangest things for love.

Garak stayed long enough to see Oldynt off the station, which wasn't long. Only two and a half hours had passed by the time he returned to his quarters. Anna was still there, as promised; she was lying on the sofa, her eyes closed, but she sat up the moment Garak entered the room. 

“How is he?” Garak asked.

“Asleep again,” she said. “He woke up once; I helped him clean up and eat a little. But he needs more rest – as much as he can get.”

“I won't disturb him,” Garak said. 

Anna remained on the sofa, an unsure look on her face. She was clearly debating whether or not she should leave Julian alone with him. Garak decided he would leave it up to her; it wasn't as if he were in a position to give orders. He sat down in the chair opposite her; even though he had slept last night, he felt more exhausted than he could ever remember feeling. He rubbed his face with his hands.

They sat together for a while in an apparent stalemate. “May I ask you something?” Garak finally said.

Anna nodded cautiously. 

“Do you really love Dukat?”

She seemed taken aback by the question. “Yes,” she said eventually.

“Why?”

She didn't look as if she were going to answer, but then she said, “I have never had to lie to him.”

“You don't have to lie to him,” Garak repeated. “That makes him worthy of love?”

“Yes,” she said. To Garak's surprise, she continued talking, her voice still soft, but not quite so timid.  
“When you're a Consort, your life is made up of lies. Every moment of every day, you are dishonest – with your words, with your body, with your gestures and your laughs and your heart. With him, there are no lies. No secrets. Before I met him, I wasn't sure if I even had a self left to be. He's helped me find that self that had been nearly smothered to death. And that's why I love him.”

“He used to frequent brothels,” Garak said. “He didn't treat those women very well.”

“I know,” she said. “I forgive him.”

Love and forgiveness – it seemed Dukat had everything Garak wanted. Who would have thought that Garak would ever be envious of the sniveling, sycophantic Dukat? “I'm happy for you, then,” Garak said. “For both of you.”

She didn't respond, but her expression became less guarded.

“Is Julian going to be all right?” Garak asked. 

“I don't know,” she said. “He says he will be, but I don't think he really knows, either.” After another moment's consideration, she stood up. “I should go,” she said. “Dr. Julian asked me to take over for him.”

Once she was gone, Garak went to the bedroom. Julian was propped up against several pillows, fast asleep. His face was freshly scrubbed, the cosmetics wiped away. The jewelry was gone, as was his golden outfit – he was now dressed in a clean white linen shirt. The only thing left from his transformation was the tattoo on his arm. 

Garak returned to the living room to fetch a chair, which he dragged beside the bed. After he sat down, he noticed a padd on the bedside table; upon examination, he saw it was the one that Julian used to read to him. As he scrolled through it, he remembered all the evenings he'd spent with his head in Julian's lap, letting his voice wash over him. Their readings in the evening were some of the most peaceful times he'd ever known. 

He pulled up one of the texts – an ancient Terran play called _Othello_. Since he didn't have anything better to do, Garak decided to read it; he had to start from the beginning, since he never paid much attention to the meaning of Julian's words. The reading was difficult, but the Bajoran anthropologist whose archives Julian had retrieved it from had written detailed notes explaining the action. 

He was soon engrossed. The story concerned a general who became convinced that his beloved wife was unfaithful to him. It turned out she was innocent, but Othello learned it too late. The play ended with her murder by his hand, followed by his suicide. Othello's actions puzzled him – even if she had been guilty, it seemed senseless to kill her. It was clear that he couldn't live without her; he should have just taken his own life, and left her alone.

Several hours passed. Garak dozed a little himself. He awoke when he heard Julian begin to stir. His eyes blinked open. “Did you take the deal?” he asked, still blurry with sleep.

“Yes. He's gone now.”

Julian let out a sigh of relief. “Good,” he said. The manic energy of the previous day was gone; he seemed more himself. 

Garak brushed the Consort tattoo on his left arm. “Is this permanent?” 

“No. It should fade in a few days.”

Garak felt a surprisingly strong wave of relief. “Good – that's good,” he said. He waited another moment before speaking again. “Are you going to be all right?”

Julian rubbed his face. “I should be able to wean myself off the drug eventually,” he said. “But I can't deal with the withdrawal at the moment.”

He didn't sound as sure as Garak would have liked. “I didn't know it was doing this to you.”

“And would it have stopped you if you did?” Julian said, glaring at him. “It isn't like my pain has been a deterrent before. Or did you think that shoving your cock down my throat at every available opportunity was something I enjoyed?”

Shame burned through him, but even in his wretched state, he still felt the urge to defend himself. “The deal was your idea, not mine.”

“Yes, it was my idea,” Julian spat. “What else was I supposed to do? It was only a matter of time before you took what you wanted. At least if I initiated it, it would be on my own terms.”

He was right, of course. He had tried to pretend that he'd never force Julian, but what had happened the other night proved what a monster he truly was. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly. 

From the way Julian looked at him, Garak could tell it was the wrong thing to say. “You're sorry,” he repeated, sounding stunned. “You're _sorry_?” he said again, louder this time as fury over took him. “Oh yes, you're always so sorry, aren't you? But that never stopped you, did it? No matter how much pain you put me through, you always wanted more. Do you have any idea what it was like for me those first weeks? I spent every waking moment full of dread – of what you were going to do to me, and of what would happen if I didn't let you. It got to the point where I barely felt human – I was nothing more than an object – and sometimes I would wish I was! After all, objects don't feel pain. Objects are never overcome with humiliation when they're taken out and used in front of everyone. Objects don't sob in the shower, too sore to even stand – ”

Garak couldn't bare to hear anymore. “You hid that from me! You pretended that you wanted me as well!”

“And you believed it?” Julian said. He sounded more bewildered than angry. “You really believed that I could love you, in spite of what you've done to me?”

“It's what you wanted me to think, isn't it? That's why you started the drug – to fool me – ”

“You knew about the drug,” Julian said. “Don't try to pretend otherwise. You've suspected for months now!” 

“I thought you had stopped!” Tears had started to fall down his face. “When I released you from the deal. I truly thought you had stopped.” 

Julian looked away. “It was too late by then,” he quietly. His gaze drifted to the window behind Garak. “Do you know what the worst part of it is?” he said eventually. “I enjoyed it. I knew that you loved me, and I relished how I could use that to control you.” He wrapped his arms around himself as if he were cold. “No, I take that back. The worst of it was when I would drug myself to the point where I could believe my own lies, just so I could get away from my pain for a little while. And I enjoyed that, too.” 

He turned his gaze back to Garak. His voice had gone strangely flat. “You were using me, but I was using you, too. It didn't matter if you deserved it. It was still wrong. And I grew to hate myself as much as I hated you.”

“Oh my Julian,” Garak said, overcome with grief. “Don't say that. Hate me if you must, but you have to know that you are blameless – ”

Julian continued as if he hadn't spoken. “If the wormhole to the other universe opened up today, I'm not sure I would go through it. I could never go back to being Dr. Julian Bashir, the fresh-faced Chief Medical Officer of Deep Space Nine, who was so eager to have adventures practicing real frontier medicine.” His voice was thick with bile. “How would I ever be able to face my friends when I can barely look at myself in the mirror without wanting to vomit? And Elim – I couldn't bare for him to touch me. I don't think I could even look at him. I can't even _think_ about him anymore.” 

“It's my fault,” Garak said. “I did this to you.”

“It's both of our faults,” Julian said. “The man I was is dead. You may have wounded him, but I was the one who finished him off.” 

Garak began to weep in earnest. “You can cry all you want,” Julian said. He sounded tired. “It won't help. I've done enough of it to know.” 

For a while, there was nothing but the sounds of Garak's sobs. Eventually, he got a hold of himself enough to stop. They sat together in dull silence. Garak was the first to break it. “How much longer until the rebellion starts?”

“Six weeks. Maybe a little more.”

Garak felt strangely relieved. “I can help, if you'd like.”

“Are you mad enough to think I'd trust you with that information?”

“You don't have to tell me specifics,” Garak said. “In fact, I'd rather you didn't. You've lied to me this long – lie to me a little longer.”

Julian stared at him in disbelief. “Do you really mean that?”

“I do.”

“And you realize what that would mean for you?”

Oh, he knew – better than Julian did. “You've already won,” he said with a shrug. “I will meet the same fate, whether or not I help you.”

It took Julian another long moment to consider what he had said. “All right,” he finally said. He struggled to stand up. 

Garak jumped to his feet. “Where are you going?”

“To get something to eat.”

“I can get it for you.”

Julian hesitated. “Fine,” he said, falling back against the pillow. “I just need soup and some bread. Nothing heavy.”

Garak paused when he reached the door. He knew he had no right to say anything else to Julian, but then again, what did he have to lose? “Thank you.”

Julian eyed him warily. “What for?”

“For these last few weeks. I know nothing about it was real, and I know it cost you greatly. But it was the most happiness I've ever known.”

Julian appeared startled out of his anger. He looked as if he were trying to form a response, but Garak left the room before he could say anything. 

He went to the replicator and fetched what Julian had asked for; he brought the food in to him on a tray. The mood between them was different now – the wound had been lanced and drained, still painful but not so acute. 

“Thank you,” Julian said as he accepted the tray. He no longer sounded angry – just tired.

“You're welcome,” Garak replied quietly as he resumed his seat.

It was clearly difficult for Julian to eat, but he managed to choke most of the food down. When he was finished eating, he opened a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a hypospray. He pressed it against his neck; he sighed in relief as his body relaxed, although he still seemed weak. To Garak relief, he didn't have the glassy-eyed stare of the previous night. 

Garak took the tray. “How long will it take for you to recover?” he asked.

“I don't know.” He settled in against the pillows. “I need to rest,” he said. 

“Of course,” Garak said. He stumbled for what to say next. “I'll – I'll spend the night in my office.”

“No – stay,” Julian said. Even after everything that just happened, Garak's heart still skipped a beat until Julian continued. “It might draw unwanted attention if you spend the night elsewhere. You can sleep in the living room.” 

“Of course,” he said again.

Garak returned to the dining room with the empty tray. He felt oddly calm. It was over now – all of it. There were no more decisions to be made – well, perhaps minor ones. How, for instance. And when. 

At least six more weeks. It seemed both too soon and an eternity away. 

He put the tray away, then replicated himself some dinner. Afterward, he went to the bedroom to check on Julian. He was fast asleep. Garak changed out of his clothes. He retrieved the padd he'd been reading earlier and retired to the sofa in the living room. A welcome numbness eventually came over him, and soon he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He awoke the next morning to find Julian at the table, eating breakfast. He was dressed in a subdued beige shirt and equally muted trousers. He looked much improved – almost well, in fact. Garak tentatively sat down at the table as well. Julian looked up, but didn't say anything.

“Are you feeling better?” Garak asked.

“Yes. I'm going to work today. You should, too. We have to make things look as normal as possible. Can you manage that?”

“Yes.”

Julian nodded in acknowledgment. He finished his breakfast quickly and left. It took Garak a little more time to get going. He didn't feel hungry, but he forced himself to choke down at least a little food. After he was finished, he showered and dressed himself. By the time he put on his armor, he felt almost normal. He scrutinized himself in the mirror. He was shocked to see that he looked the same as he always did. It seemed like he should be transformed somehow by everything that had happened. 

He managed to get through the day without incident. He saw Julian once or twice, but they didn't acknowledge each other. At the end of the day, he made his way back to his quarters. He was surprised to find Julian in the kitchen, cooking something. 

He looked up from the stove when Garak entered. “I'm trying to make a chicken stew,” he said, indicating the pot. “My mother always used to make it for me when I didn't feel well. But it's hopeless – not even Rom could find anything resembling the spices my mother would use. And you can't really make stew quickly, can you? Proper stew needs hours to cook.”

Garak stared at him. Had he finally lost his mind? Or had Julian? He searched his face, half expecting to see his pupils blown wide again, but they weren't. “It's probably edible, all the same,” he said. “Set the table, would you?”

Garak did as he was told, half-dazed. He sat down as Julian brought out the pot and served them both. He went back to the kitchen and returned with a plate of bread, then sat down himself.

“What is this?” Garak finally asked.

“Stew, like I said.” He took a piece of bread. “And bread as well, although it's not right, either. Not even close to right.” He looked over at Garak, and seemed to have pity on him at last. “You asked me to lie to you,” he said. “Have you changed your mind?”

Wordlessly, Garak shook his head. 

“All right, then,” he said. He began to eat.

“Why?” Garak asked, unable to form a better question. 

Julian took a few more bites of his meal before he answered. “I want to be the man I once was again. The only way I can do that is to forgive myself – and to forgive myself, I have to forgive you as well.”

“You – you forgive me?” Garak asked, his heart in his throat.

“I'm working on it.” 

Julian returned to his meal. Garak just stared at his; he couldn't quite work up an appetite. 

“Do you know how I escaped from the restraint?” Julian asked eventually.

Garak shook his head.

“I didn't,” he said. “You let me go.”

“I did?” Garak said, stunned. 

“Yes. You stumbled into the bedroom in the middle of the night and unlocked it. I'm not surprised you don't remember – you were dead drunk.” 

Garak took a moment to absorb that information. “I'm glad I did,” he said finally. “I'm glad you will be free.”

Julian gave him a long look. “Eat your stew,” he said. “You'll hurt my feelings if you don't.”

Obediently, Garak picked up his spoon. After they had finished their meal, Julian cleared the table. They didn't really speak for the rest of the night, but the silence wasn't a tense one. When it was time for sleep, Garak bedded down on the sofa in the living room. For the second night in a row, he found himself falling into an easy slumber.

* * * 

And so, over the course of the next six weeks, Garak became a passive member of the Terran Resistance. Julian would sometimes give him tasks to fulfill, like feeding bits of misinformation to the Regent or the Bajorans, or allowing ships to drop off mysterious cargo unmolested. But for the most part, Garak's job was to keep up appearances, which he did admirably well. Garak felt like a ghost; the knowledge that it was all going to end in a few short weeks gave his tasks an unreal quality, divorced of any real meaning. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling – in fact, he almost took pleasure in it. There was no more ambitions to fill, no more force to exert, no more endless, insatiable desires.

When he'd successfully drifted through to the end of the day, Julian would join him in their quarters. He was changed from how he'd been before – he wasn't sullen the way he had been when this all had started, and he wasn't the bubbly flirt he had been when he was taking the drug. Neither was he the optimistic young doctor he'd been when he'd arrived. He was much more subdued now – but not broken. Cracked, perhaps, but still intact. He even started to take himself off the drug. The withdrawal was ugly – he spent many sleepless nights, shaking and sweating and crying with pain. Garak helped him through it. By the time he was free of the drug, some of what had gone on between them seemed to be repaired as well. Garak knew he could never be completely forgiven, but to be able to help undo some of the damage he caused was enough for him.

They talked a lot. Julian began to tell him about his old life. He told him about his friends and coworkers – about Captain Sisko, a leader who was stern but fair; and the improbably old and irresistibly mischievous Jadzia Dax (whom he'd been mad about for a little while); cagey Odo, whose watchful eyes and keen sense of justice kept the station in order; O'Brien – his best friend, a hard-headed and big-hearted man; brave and noble Major Kira, who had fought so passionately for her freedom. 

He told him about the station on the other side – about the bustling Promenade with its colorful shops, its shrines for the religious Bajorans, restaurants catering to every taste, and of course, Quark's bar, which made Rom's bar on this side seem like a desolate dive. He told him about the many visitors from all over the galaxy and beyond – his fellow members of Starfleet, merchants from far-flung planets, Klingon warriors, Bajoran pilgrims, and many more. The pictures he painted were so vivid that Garak almost felt he was there. The idea that the station that was a living hell on this side could be such a glorious place on the other gave Garak a strange sense of peace – as if nothing were completely hopeless. 

Garak opened up as well. He told Julian about his miserable childhood, growing up always on the edge of starvation as his mother bounced desperately from job to job, trying her best to keep them alive. He talked about his entrance into the military – how frightened he had been, and how brutal those first few years were, even for a street-hardened child like himself. Memories returned to him of things long buried – what was done to him. What he did to others. He had never thought he'd want to revisit those times, but strangely enough, he found it liberating. 

It should have been impossible given what had happened between them, but somehow, something grew between them. Julian didn't love him, Garak knew – that really _was_ impossible. But it seemed, at least, he was able to forgive him. It was almost as if they'd become friends. 

One morning, as he sat in his office, he received a hail from an approaching shuttlecraft. When he answered it, he was not altogether surprised to see Dukat's face fill his viewscreen. 

“Hello, sir!” Dukat said. “So here I am, back from burying my mother.” He gave Garak a broad wink. It seemed he was under the impression that Garak was an active participant in the Resistance. He didn't have the heart to correct him. “I'll just go ahead and dock then, shall I?” he continued. “I have the...cargo that Dr. Julian asked for. I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to tell him?”

“Of course,” Garak said, although he had no idea what Dukat was talking about.

“Very good!” he said. “I'll see you later, I'm sure.” He ended the call.

Garak asked the computer to locate Julian; he was in the infirmary. Garak found him in the back room, alone. He was punching a few things into a console. “Dukat has arrived,” Garak said. “He said to tell you he has the cargo you wanted.”

Julian continued with whatever he was working on. Garak began to wonder if he'd heard him, but then he looked up. “Are you busy right now?”

“No.”

“Then go get dressed into something comfortable and meet me at Rom's,” he said. 

It was a mysterious command, but Garak obeyed it without question. Julian was waiting for him at the entrance. “Come with me,” he said.

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

Julian led Garak to one of the holosuites. He pushed a few buttons on the console and stepped inside. Garak followed. The door shut, leaving them standing in a field of striking beauty, full of green grass and abundant wildflowers. The sun shone down from a sky of perfect blue. Garak was dumbstruck. Julian started down a path that wove its way through the flowers. He looked back over his shoulder. “Follow me,” he said. Somehow, Garak managed to break out of his shock and follow him.

The path led to a lake, on the edge of which was a perfect little house. He loved it immediately – it wasn't fancy, but it wasn't humble, either. It was right in the middle – something comfortable and homey, elegant in its simplicity. 

He felt a stir of recognition. “It's my house,” he said. “My house on Bajor. The one I always wanted.” 

Julian smiled. “I'm glad I got it right.” 

An unnameable emotion overtook him. “I don't understand,” he said. 

“There's not much to understand,” Julian said. “We're going to have a nice day. That's all.”

Garak felt tears prickle in the back of his eyes. He wasn't quite able to contain them. “Thank you,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Thank you.”

Julian gave him a moment to compose himself. “Come on,” he said. “Let me show you.”

The day they spent together was the best day of Garak's life. After having a late breakfast in the house, they went for a ride in a row boat; the lake was so clear and still that it perfectly mirrored the sunny sky. Afterward, they rode Terran contraptions called “bikes” along a country road lined with lush trees and flowers bursting with color. When they were finally out of breath, they stopped for a picnic lunch of ripe fruits, creamy cheeses and sweet breads. They rode back to the house again and spent some time merely being together, playing card games and talking about nothing in particular. Julian made them a magnificent dinner. When that was finished, they took a walk along the shore line, the waves licking their bare feet as they watched the sun set.

“We should get back,” Julian said.

“Wait,” Garak said. “The sun hasn't quite set yet.”

They watched the sun sink lower and lower. The sky was gorgeous, melting into pinks and purples. After another few moments, the sun finally vanished. “It's over now,” Garak said. “I'm ready.”

They returned to their quarters. It was late, so they began preparing for bed. It was going to be their last night here; Garak was certain of it. He considered not saying anything else – it wasn't going to affect his decision – but at the last minute, he changed his mind. He sat down on the sofa in the bedroom and waited for Julian to finish showering and dressing for bed. “Dukat seems to think that I'll be joining you in your victory,” he said when Julian emerged from the washroom.

Julian sat down beside him. “You could, you know,” he said. 

For a moment, Garak was tempted. But he knew better than to think that he and Julian could ever truly be together. They'd come to a truce, that was all. And without Julian, there was little point in it. “No. I think it would be best if I didn't.”

“If that's your decision,” Julian said. 

“It will start tonight, won't it?”

Julian nodded. 

Garak thought he would be ready for this, but there was still a part of him that was screaming with loss, begging for one more moment between them. “I know that I don't have a right to say it,” Garak began. “But I am sorry for everything. Julian, I am so sorry – ”

And then a miracle happened. Julian leaned in and kissed him. “I know,” he said. “I know.” 

And then they were kissing again. Somehow they moved to the bed; clothes were shed. They were in each others' arms a moment later. It felt both familiar and entirely new. The lies and the pain were gone at last, leaving only the honest pleasure of their bodies against each other. Garak was too afraid of losing the moment to stop and coordinate anything more than the kisses and caresses they were engaged in, but it was more than enough. When they came, it was together.

Neither of them moved when it was over. Instead, they drifted off to sleep, Garak curled up behind Julian the way they often had before. Garak wasn't sure how long they dozed – a few hours, at least. He woke when he felt Julian extract himself from their embrace. 

Silently, Julian dressed himself. Garak pretended to still be asleep. In another moment, he left the room. Garak heard the front door slide open. He waited several more moments before getting up himself. After pulling on some clothes, he went to his weapons locker and opened it. He carefully considered its contents. The bat'leth was clearly out. A phaser would be quickest, but it felt cowardly, somehow. Inevitably, he was drawn to his two favorite knives: the ugly, dull one that had ended the Intendant's life, and the other one – bright and sharp. 

He chose the sharp one. He'd give himself that small mercy, at least. He settled the knife below his sternum. All he had to do was stab upwards to pierce his heart. Another quick motion to remove it and he would bleed out. It would be over quicker than he'd have time to process it. He steadied himself and pressed the tip against his chest.

Several minutes passed and he still hadn't moved. He wanted to die. He was ready to die. And yet, for some reason, he couldn't do it. He lowered the knife, annoyed with himself. Perhaps he should use the phaser after all. But when he got out the phaser and held it to his temple, he had the same problem. 

Eventually, he decided to see what Julian was doing. Perhaps he just needed to witness the start of the Rebellion – to know for sure that their plan was a good one, and that Julian was going to be all right. He tucked the knife into his belt and set off to find Julian.

Since it was the middle of the night, the station was quiet. It was never truly dark, but the lights were dimmed, and the machinery that roared during the day was reduced to a dull hum. He figured that Julian would be finished unloading whatever cargo Dukat had brought – they would probably be at Rom's. 

He was right. He could see several dark figures in the bar. He kept to the shadows and crept closer so he could see who they were. He made out Anna and Dukat at first – they were wrapped in a tender embrace. He saw Julian's face next – he was talking to three people whose backs were to Garak. He could tell one of them was Rom by the shape of his head, but he wasn't sure of the other two. He shifted positions until he had a clear view of their faces. 

It was Sisko and Major Kira. They must have been the “cargo” Dukat was talking about. It all made sense – Dukat must have gone to the Badlands specifically to smuggle them into the station. He noticed that Ranrak and O'Brien were missing – they were probably rallying the troops. 

The take- over of the station would probably be swift; he was sure the Terrans were already prepared. They had weapons, and they had the bombs – they could set a few of them off without destroying the station, causing chaos. The surprise would give them the upper hand to subdue the Klingons and Cardassians. The civilian Bajorans would probably not offer any resistance; they might even be able to use them as hostages. Once they had control of the station, it would be extremely difficult for the Alliance forces to take it back. And he was sure that they had more tricks up their sleeves. They would have several hard battles ahead of them, but they were winnable. Garak felt relieved.

He was just about to leave when Julian spotted him. He said something to the others and started towards him. Panicked, Garak retreated – he didn't want Julian to know what he was planning. He was closer to his office than he was to the habitat ring, so he headed there. Julian was quickly catching up to him – he called out to Garak, but he ignored him. He made it into his office and locked the door.

He pulled out the knife and put it to his heaving chest. It had to be now. He shut his eyes and mustered up every last bit of courage he had. 

But before he could do it, the door slid open, and Julian burst in. His eyes widened when he saw the knife. “What are you doing?”

“Would you rather I wait for Sisko to execute me?”

“No one's going to execute you!” Julian said, aghast. “Do you really think I would let that happen?”

“I won't be a captive, then. What other choice do I have?”

“I've arranged a shuttle for you,” Julian said. “You can leave – start a new life.”

Garak let out a small, sad laugh. “Oh, my Julian – it seems there is still some innocence left in you after all. Do you really think that Sisko will let that happen?”

“Then stay and help us! We could use you – with everything you know about the Alliance and the contacts you have – ”

“Do you love me?” Garak interrupted. 

Julian fell silent, his expression pained. “You know I don't,” he finally said. 

“And you never could. I have done so many terrible things in my life. There is little point in continuing it.”

“Killing yourself won't make up for that,” he said. “If you really wanted to make up for what you've done, you'd help undo some of that damage.” Julian took a step toward him. “You aren't thinking straight. Just give me the knife, and we can talk about this – ”

Just then, they heard the sound of an explosion coming from the direction of the processing center. Julian was distracted for a moment – long enough for Garak to finally do what needed to be done. It hurt, but somehow the pain seemed distant. The world grew strangely sharp for a moment as his body let out one last burst of panicked energy to help him fight to stay alive. His body always had been a stupid thing; he'd be glad to be rid of it.

Julian lunged toward him, catching him before he hit the floor. He was babbling something, but Garak had trouble concentrating on what he was saying. He eased Garak onto his back. 

After a moment, he was able to make out Julian's words. “ – be fine as long as we don't touch the knife – I'll have Anna bring the med kit, you'll be fine – ” 

Garak shook his head. Their gazes met. “Please,” Garak managed to say. 

Julian held his gaze for another long moment. “All right,” he finally said. He was crying now. “If you're sure.”

Garak nodded. “Forgive me?” he asked.

Julian nodded as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Yes. Yes, I forgive you.” Garak's hand was still around the handle, but he didn't have the strength to pull it out. Julian wrapped his hand around Garak's. “On three,” he said. “One, two – ”

The blade slid out. Almost immediately, the world began to fade away. The last thing he saw were Julian's beautiful eyes, wide and wet with tears – tears for him. 

It was more than he could have ever asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder - happy endings can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/712846/chapters/1318634) and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/695331). >_>
> 
> Thanks once again for reading - I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Sooo, this is going to be awkward, but I thought I'd add a note to let everyone know that I've branched out into original work under the pen name Sera Trevor. I have three original novels available for free! 
> 
> My first book, "Consorting with Dragons," is a fairy tale comedy about an impoverished young lord who ends up attracting the attention of both a powerful dragon and the king himself, much to the consternation of the royal court who are less than impressed with his uncouth manners. If you like my sense of humor, I think you'll really enjoy it! It's available in all formats at the Goodreads M/M Romance Group's site [here.](http://bit.ly/2noeIlF) (Scroll to the bottom for the links.)
> 
> My second book, "A Shadow on the Sun," is an epic fantasy about a prince forced into a political marriage and the loyal knight who is determined to save him. This book is heavy on the angst and political intrigue. You can find it on Amazon [here](http://amzn.to/2ntg1la), or at Smashwords [here.](http://bit.ly/2nod4k3)
> 
> My last book, "The Troll Whisperer," is a contemporary tale about an internet troll who inadvertently falls for one of his victims. It's a comedy with a lot of heart as the main character learns to change his trolly ways. You can find it on Amazon [here](http://amzn.to/2nYQPnv), or at Smashwords [here.](http://bit.ly/2o36ToF) The short story sequel, "The Pink Wedding," is available for $.99 [here](http://amzn.to/2orp2bP) and [here.](http://bit.ly/2na9lVo)
> 
> I also have a [website!](http://www.seratrevor.com) You can keep up with my releases by signing up for my newsletter [here.](http://www.seratrevor.com/newsletter.html)


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